


INKALINE

by Ni_Ichi_Shichi



Category: Splatoon
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 10:15:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ni_Ichi_Shichi/pseuds/Ni_Ichi_Shichi
Summary: Unwilling to put their trust in the recently freed Octolings, the Inklings devise a trial to test their true nature.To all the members over at Squidbeak, the perfect candidate choice couldn't be more obvious.However, shortly after the trial begins, complications cause the planned objectives to rapidly crumble apart - with Agents 3 and 8 becoming fully trapped amidst them.
Relationships: Agent 3/Agent 8 (Splatoon)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	1. My deepest thoughts consume my mind

**_Dink-Dink-Dink - Pop!_ **

Yeah, not looking so hot down here on the ground now are you? Peeping around all skittish with those dumbass googly eyes, twirling that lazersnozz of yours in every which direction, whew that suuure was a threatening sight. Get fucked.

_Don't sweat it, Agent 3. It's not like you don't deserve a break._

And just who exactly do you think you're staring at, buzzie? You really think I'm just gonna sit here idle while you take your sweet time eying me up? Tell you what buddy, since you love inspecting me so much, here's a couple splat bombs for your baskets to examine up close as well, my treat. Absolute buffoon.

_Yeah, Three, what Marie said! Just get out there and take some time off!_

Aaand just what the fuck were YOU thinking, oversized guppy? Was that seriously your best attempt at sneaking up on me like some wiseass punk? Wow. Wow I mean, you sure got me there didn't you? Let me tell you missy, you ain't snatching me up anytime soon, so why not try-

_**Bzzz bzz.** _

Oh, would you just FUCK. OFF! Fuck off! I've had it with these damn spam calls already! I'm not fucking interested in switching from my Cuttlegear and I never ever will be. Just get that through your thick heads already. Always the worst timing I swear, can't ever have just 5 minutes to myself. Honestly, sometimes I wish tha-

"Six eggs to go. Still. And you're less than half a minute. Move it."

Yeah, yeahyeahyeayea whatever. Whatever. You picking up my thoughts you creepy electro bear? What. Ever. You hear that? Why don't you try stuffing it for a change. Get enough of people telling me what to do. Maybe if you actually let me solo this for once like I've requested multiple times we wouldn't even be having this problem in the first place eh? It's like, I don't WANT these oth-

_**Bzzz bzz.** _

Mmmhmm, of course. Course. Call me again, why not. Because me ignoring the call before wasn't a good enough indication of my nonexistent interest. Not even gonna waste my time further, declined these calls enough times to feel it out straight from my pocket. Just reach in like that, yeah, and tap slightly abov-

"OI. HOTHEAD. I SUGGEST YOU ACTUALLY GET WORKING IF YOU WANT TO KEEP THIS JOB."

Right, right, 15 seconds. Alright jeez, don't get your antenna in a twist. Fakeass wood carving. It's real simple, I've just gotta dump these... wait, hang on... where are the eggs I just got...? I had them right here, what, two seconds ago or something? Uhh... shit? Oookay, I need to quickl-

"Agent 3, are you there? What's going on? You never miss a call. Where are you?"

Cuttlefish. Cut, tle, fish. Had to be him. Using modern tech for once in his life, just my luck. Guess I missed 'decline'... what does he want anyway? Didn't we just get done with Kamabo like, a week back? Look, when you tell me to take a break, I expect a little more than-

"Are you going to help or what?! Look at him! He's just standing there!"

Wait, is she talking to me?

"Uhhh-"

_**Splat!** _

**XXX That's a wrap! XXX**

Oh, fuck off.

\- - - - -

"Look, Grizz..."

"Yer done, kid. Get outta here."

Three glared back at the statue in disgust, hoping his disagreeing demeanour would somehow come across to it.

"What?? No no no, get real here pookie, cut me a brea-"

"Two weeks, you're out. Come back then."

"Oh, fuck that! C'mon..."

Grizz's building quietened for a moment, with Agent 3 having slapped a hand on his mouth upon realizing what he'd just said to his only official employer in anger. When Mr. Grizz resumed speaking, his voice held a tone Three had never yet heard before.

"Listen, kid. I'm only lettin' that slide once. Yer a good employee of mine, one of the best, but your performance's been lackin' lately. Big time. Now "c'mon" on outta here. Take some time off and get yerself sorted out. I ain't tellin' you again."

Having been the second time Three had heard those words, he finally considered perhaps taking it seriously.

Until he remembered his missed call.

\- - - - -

"What? With Eight?? No. No, I ain't doing that. That's fucked."

Presently situation at the base of Octo Valley, Agent 3 sat opposite his superior on a generic wooden picnic bench, holding a similar disgusted expression that he had formed not 5 minutes prior. Passing through the familiar grating had triggered numerous memories for him instantly, returning him back to the time where he would travel through it almost daily. It had reminded him of the old plaza as well. He kinda missed that place.

Unfortunately however, he wasn't reminiscing over the past with his higher-up and soon abandoned that train of thought - as instead he'd just realised the incredibly impolite way he'd spoken to him. A double coincidence that he was most unfond with.

"O-oh, um, sorry... for that." Looking away slightly in embarrassment, Three hoped Craig wouldn't take his decline too personally. He kicked himself interally for his actions, already frustrated with himself having made a silly impression due to his emotions. He was meant to act more mature than before, not less. "But, er, yeah. I don't really like that idea."

Much to Three's relief, Cuttlefish didn't appear the slightest bit offended. Come to think of it, it was very rare that he ever took offense to anything he said. Moments like this always served to remind Three to appreciate that quality of his further. There were never any problems between them because nothing ever felt awkward.

"It's... understandable, Agent 3." A response finally came, brushing over Three's language entirely. "In fact, it actually would concern me more if you had reacted differently."

"...Oh." Was all Three replied back, at a loss over the best way to follow up further.

"But, you see... this is our only... real option."

"...Real option?"

"Yes."

Three regained his focus on Cuttlefish, a slight sense of dread beginning to wash over him. That wasn't the typical 'give-up' attitude he was used to hearing.

"Why?"

"You wouldn't like the other options. You can trust me on that."

"No, that's... not what I meant. Why can't we do something better?"

Opting to not answer Three's question immediately, Cap'n Cuttlefish instead slowly shook his head and soonafter closed his eyes entirely. He took a deep, long inhale, fragile body rocking slightly as he did so, then exhaled and returned his gaze on his most fiery Agent.

"You are the best Agent I've trained," he started, while Three made his best effort putting full attention to listening. This meeting was starting to sound much more serious that usual. Escalating so fast, too. "Outside of my own daughters, you are the most reliable."

Cuttlefish stood up from his spot on the bench and walked a small distance towards the edge of the valley, looking outwards to the uniquely shaped rock formations in the distance.

"You get the best results on everything. Even when you were a ki- younger. You rarely turn a job down, complain about the length, start time, anything."

Three swallowed thickly, still staying seated. He wasn't liking this. Most of his missions were easy. He didn't even take them seriously half the time. Hearing this was making him comprehend the greater responsibility he truly had as a member of Squidbeak. It was no secret that his status on the team was pretty high up there. Without his skills, Inkopolis would've progressed a whole less smoothly. ...Though he no longer considered Inkopolis his biggest achievement compared to what - or who, rather - his latest adventure had saved.

"I..." Cuttlefish paused briefly, rethinking his sentence. "There's a reason I brought only you with me here."

After a long silence, Three thought it appropriate to speak up.

"So... what was it?" He questioned semi-quietly, hoping it would be heard across from where he was.

With a shaky turnaround to face him, it was quickly confirmed that it was.

"It's because I expected you to refuse. But more so than that... it's because I cannot tell anyone else what you are about to hear."

Three sat up straight. That certainly peaked his interest.

"...This won't be nice for you to hear, Agent 3. It isn't nice for me to say either. But... I will be ordering you to go through with the aforementioned mission. Without an option of refusal. Saying no, well... I don't even want to imagine how worse it would make life for certain others. And if you wish to listen now, I will explain to you exactly why. But this is not required."

Three paused everything in his head. That was by far the most alien sentence he'd ever heard come out of the Squidbeak leader's mouth. Typically he was lighthearted and positive towards even the most statistically unlikely survival situations. And outright enforcing a task to him? Just who was he speaking to right now?

'Certain others', he thought over...

...Wait, he didn't mean like... like...

"You do not have to say yes, Agent 3."

"Oh - oh yeah, Captain. Mmhm. If you're wanting me to do this then I'll definitely need to know."

\- - - - -

"Oh, Agent 3! I'm so happy to be seeing you!"

Agent 8 smiled wide as he arrived at this strange unknown location, having been guided here from none other than the Squid Sister's themselves. Already on a high note from being able to converse with those two, he was now practically buzzing over the sight of seeing his favourite squid here with him.

Three on the other hand was purely focused on maintaining composure, trying his absolute hardest to ignore the constant inner screams his brain was endlessly producing. The two of them were located in a simple enough building, yet the internal structure appeared unusually symmetrical. The 'Secret Bunker', Three'd been told; which was perhaps the worst fitting name possible as it was neither a bunker nor very secretively hidden.

"Hey, Eight." He responded plainly, motioning for him to sit down across from himself. Eight quickly complied.

"What is up with here? This is exciting new place! Am I to be helping with something good?"

Eight's ever so slightly broken Inkling had always been charming to Three. As well as his eagerness to help. And politeness. And, Three went ahead and canned that thought line right away. He was already feeling like a breakdown was forming.

"Y-Yeah, it's... kinda good? I need your help with it though."

"Okay! I will do my best to help."

Three's mouth twitched, but he soon resumed.

"Right. Well you know uh, you know how the Inklings in the square are being horrible to Octolings by not letting them visit?"

He spoke a bit fast, but Eight didn't seem to take any notice. He'd already used incorrect wording there; getting out these sentences properly was going to be a real challenge.

"Oh? I'm not thinking it is horrible. They are just afraid from history."

Three's breathing hitched. This was so unfair.

"Mmm... right. Well anyway, we might be able to convince them differently, with your help."

"Me? Oh, you are not showing me to them all, are you?"

"No- Well, not quite."

Three stopped momentarily to breathe a little. Of course Eight had to pick a guess too close to disregard. Upon making his pause, Eight was beginning to pick up on this uneasiness radiating from him, although he continued to refrain from questioning it whatsoever. Feeling his emotions refusing to settle, Three soon determined this stop wasn't doing much for him and got right back to it; skipping his pre-planned script guide and hitting the core issue directly.

"It's... to do with both of us. They're thinking of showing us both, but with our... ...m e m o r i e s... temporarily gone."

In an instant as the words registered in his mind, Eight's eyes went wide. Three knew this entire approach would be a lost cause. There wasn't a single way he could have said that any better.

"Oh, no no no! My memory is not great already! I would not want to do that at all. Sorry, Ag- Three."

"...Yeah, I thought as-"

"I am okay here with you already!" Eight began abruptly, taking on a tone of reassurance. It was very rare Agent 8 ever spoke up on his own at all - let alone interrupt his best friend. "It is okay to not be with all Inklings right now. Going to big Inkling square is small feature to me. I am very happy being by you and others on this part of surface. I am okay, Three, I am promising you."

That was enough to break the older Agent. Covering his face with both hands he did his best to hold back tears. Nobody deserved this less than Eight.

"...Three? Have my words upset you? I-"

"We have to, Eight." Three shot back suddenly, removing his hands from his face and hiding them from view. "Neither of us can say no. That's the problem. They want to send you and everyone else away again, for good. Even... getting 'rid' of you all... _permanently_. It's, it's - I knew you wouldn't want it. I knew. I know you don't want this. But it's the only thing they'll accept. To test an Octoling's 'true nature' or some, fucking bullshit. And after you saved us all already, pulled yourself through that horrible place, it's like for fuck's... oh God, this is so _fucked_."

Agent 3 kept his focus away from Eight, looking down at nothing in particular and shielding his eyes from view a second time. Agent 8's mouth was agape in shock. He'd only ever seen Three break down like this once before, but didn't even know if that was the worst part of what'd just taken place.

Before anything could progress further however, a knock was heard against the single door of the building.

"Agent 3? Come out, please. I'll-I'll handle it for you! Don't worry."

Bewildered at what was even happening anymore, Eight kept still as a swap readily took place before him. The last thing he saw from Three leaving was his head hung in shame, the squid taking a final look back with tears held in each eye. His own mind was racing - his true nature? No option of saying no? Who was Three even talking about with 'they'? And then newly sat before him was a similarly dressed person that he took a moment to recognize.

"Agent Eight, isn't it? Hey again, it's Four. We met before, remember, heh...? A-Agent 3's, umm, he's taking... umm, alright, I'll explain everything to you, okay? Just, stay there, just like you're doing, and listen carefully, okay? I-I'll go through it all here..."

The young Octoling felt his head beginning to nod in a sort of automatic motion as he stared back at the greater-numbered Agent. There was no disrespect from him towards this younger squid but he couldn't bring himself to focus further on her higher pitched voice. Her words repeatedly hit his ears but no translation happened internally within him.

He honestly just wanted to leave and find Three.


	2. Each step forward burns my soul

In his own words, Three 'hated this fucking shit' that was currently taking place - which was already a high bar to surpass when taking his previous week into account. He hadn't been allowed to see Agent 8 for the entire period. Or do anything for Squidbeak. Or Grizzco. Hell, anything at all really. It had almost drove him crazy.

Being airborne on the same helicopter he'd been unconscious on around a month ago caused a decent level of difficulty in blocking out the rotor blades to think but was by far the easiest thing Three was having himself do right now. What an unpleasant memory to have in general, he thought. _What he wouldn't give to be going through that again instead._

He looked down at himself for what felt like the 10th time, once again failing to properly analyse the all sorts of funky tech that was securely hooked up to him. The majority of it was thin and hidden; metal looking rods that weren't serving any obvious purpose, with the sole exception being small camcorder wrapped in black tape firmly attached to what looked like a winter hat. It didn't make any sense to him. It's not like it was snowing.

"It'll make sense at the time", he'd been told. "We have it all under control". "Good luck", even. Ha! As if he cared about anything they had to say. All other people were doing is forcing him into doing this himself. His Squidbeak team, everyone back in Inkopolis - he barely felt anything towards either of them anymore. If he could turn the clock back he wouldn't even care to help his fellow Inklings see the good in Octolings now. In his mind, well... they didn't even deserve them.

Speaking of Octolings, Agent 8 was another person. Who Three did care about. Who just so happened to also be getting forced to do this exact same something by others. Funny coincidences there, surely. Three hoped Eight didn't have such a difficult time with their forced separation but couldn't bring himself to believe it fully. At least, if anything, that would soon change. Not that they'd recognise each other...

"It's time, Three." He heard as the chopper began to lower, a strange transparent dome in the distance starting to take shape in his vision before he was pulled aside. "Get into frame and we'll start it. All the best, from all of us."

\- - - - -

Awakening in a place not marked on any map in existence could cause a fair amount of paranoia for most people. Having the weather in such a location be unlike anything typical would probably serve to intensify this too. And to have the entire world spinning before you should definitely tell you that nothing about this is normal.

But Agent 3 wasn't bothered about any of that. He was just annoyed from the feeling in his head.

"...Ugh... man. That was some hard fucking stuff they gave me."

And yet, upon instantly remarking that... he failed to realise just exactly what he'd said.

Repeatedly squeezing his eyes about a dozen times, Three slowly climbed to his feet and took a good look around. He recognized this place immediately - a complete replica of the 'secret' bunker (which was, once more, hardly secret and not a bunker) where he'd spoken to Eight last, except it now appeared to be entirely made of wood as opposed to solid concrete. That was certainly odd. Was this really the same place?

Focus falling on the shelves that inhabited the room, he unexpectedly found himself spoiled for choice on sight. Every single shelf was stocked to the brim with food, medicine, tools - and all of it certainly looked real and practical. A bit overkill, wasn't it? Why was there so much? Stuff of that quality wasn't exactly cheap.

Stretching out his legs, Three strolled over to the adjacent room nearby. Opposite the building's main door was a small glass window looking to the outside world, and woah. It was snowing! Really snowing. He'd never seen it in person before, but assumed it was probably best not to touch that stuff. Oh, that reminded him, didn't he see some kind of artic outf-

Oh, woah. He was suited up in a complete set of winter clothing from head to toe, fur lining the inside and everything. It was indeed the same clothing he'd laid eyes on back on the chopper. Funny, he hadn't even noticed until-

Oh. Woah.

He had a Splattershot attached to his right thigh in a fitted holder too, disappointingly not his old Hero Shot instead. That was... strange. What purpose would a weapon serve here anyway? Were there wild Agent 4's roaming around?

...

......

...Hang on a minute.

Why the hell could he remember all this stuff?

\- - - - -

For an Octoling who just wanted the best for everyone, life sure was treating him back unfairly. Agent 8 was, quite literally, freezing right now.

He found himself standing at the peak of a hill. A very cold hill. Covered in a layer of alien white powder that was just as, if not, even colder than the air. This entire sight was completely foreign to him.

The powder's coldness had nothing up against what he was wearing though. It was a combination of leather and metal that seemed to fit him perfectly, something that would be ideal and applicable for combat situations, but it wasn't doing much in the elemental protection department as it was causing a constant icy pressure that was beginning to feel unbearable.

The worst part, however, was what he was holding. A charger weapon, he'd quickly identified, which he held tightly against himself. Not that he wanted to. The thick metal stock looked to have been pressed tightly against his bare stomach during whatever had let up to this very point in time, and was now completely stuck to him directly; locked to his skin with a tight frozen connection.

He wasn't feeling very good.

Eight tried to recall how he'd gotten here. What he needed to do. Who he even was. Anything. But his brain wasn't functioning how he wanted, and not a single result came forth from his thinking. It was terrifying him, but not as much as his surroundings.

Nothing here made any sense. This had to be a bad dream, surely. A nightmare. In front of him was plain white ground the likes of which he'd never once seen without a trace of anyone else nearby. Turning himself around slowly, doing his best to clutch his charger steady amidst his violent shaking, he couldn't even see footsteps leading up to his location. Or an outline of where he was previously lying.

But was he even lying here before? This situation simply wasn't possible. It was like he started existing at this very moment in time, dropped into place instantaneously out of nowhere. He definitely didn't just wake up. Just what on earth was happening?

He really wasn't feeling good now. Was he going to die? Freeze to death and cease existing entirely? Surely not... right...? Could that really happen right now?

Small dots of white began drifting down from above him, leaving a burning sensation each time they briefly collided with his body. Eight assumed they were cold but was struggling to feel anything less cold than his stomach, with an inner sort of sickness feeling rising within it. He wanted to call for help but couldn't seem to do so.

Vision starting to fade and balance becoming difficult, still without the slightest plan of what to do, he pressed firmly on his charger's trigger and continued holding it down tight. He was unable to tell if it was actually charging up and wasn't aiming at any target but was hoping, if anything, it'd make SOMETHING happen. He hadn't felt the ink leave his body - was there a tank attached to his back? Or was he really becoming this numb?

Just before he stumbled to the icy ground, Eight released the trigger and fired a load of ink straight into the air. It left a diagonally vertical line in the sky, bright pink colour clashing against the unsaturated cyan.

But at the same time, he screamed. Really screamed. The kind of impulsive sound you don't typically make unless something has suddenly gone seriously wrong.

Upon firing with such a weak hold the charger's violent recoil had made it fly backwards entirely. The whole weapon had slipped from his arms and landed atop the snow layer behind him, sinking almost fully out of sight into the thick layer below.

As it had done so, accompanied by a lightning strike of pain radiating from his lower body, the stock had also taken part of Eight's side with it.

Dark ink and other additional fluids were soon absorbed by the nearby snow shifting it to a unique magenta colour, with his fired shot's ink shortly landing only to also add to the mixture. It was disgusting to him, a puddle of ink and his own blood, but he was more disgusted in himself wanting to roll further in it to be relieved by its temporary warmth.

Lying flat on his back, finally slipping into unconsciousness, Eight wished for nothing more than to wake up anywhere but here.

And, preferably, also be alive.

\- - - - -

Agent 3 quickly determined that he despised snow. Who came up with it, he wondered. He'd like to have a little one-on-one session with them. It was such pointless stuff. Why not just have colder water instead? Or have it harden up in mass when it lands and binds together? At least then travelling through it wouldn't be so irritating.

On more important matters, he had abandoned the relative safety of the building to take a better look of the he was surrounded by. Observing the clouds that travelled above him revealed that the environment was completely unnatural - outright fake, identical to his experience throughout certain past missions. The feeling it created was legitimate but the generation was completely false. _Normal clouds didn't bend downwards in the distance._

Marina was probably controlling this back home. Or Sheldon. Or anyone else with moderate knowledge of technology he couldn't bring himself to presently care about.

Talking about what he now struggled to label as his 'allies' - Three has devised a plan. He was under the assumption that there was some kind of miscommunication earlier between whatever audio input device was stuck somewhere on him and everyone back in Inkopolis, this concept being further reinforced when noting how nobody had cancelled this right away to rerun it properly. Obviously the memory-wiper stuff hadn't worked, but having his early vocal expression not having been recorded was a spot of luck not often found in his life.

I mean, witnessing what happens between a memory-less Inkling and Octoling was the entire point of this 'exercise', right? 'Trial', was it? Or _'mission'_ as Captain Cuttlefish had dared to pretend to call it. Three didn't have a label for this. Directly messing with people's bodies, even as an effort to stop the act of what was effectively a form of racism, still didn't seem all that humane to him. How did everyone settle so easily on this?

Oh yeah, he remembered. It's because they weren't the ones who were going to have to actually do it.

But getting back to its purpose, Three was under the assumption that everything was being recorded, and he was probably being spectated by a lot of people right now - if not at least one. All he had to do was find Eight, make sure he didn't spill the beans early if he also recognized him back, act all nice and friendly together then return home successful. So what if he had this hidden advantage? Nobody had to know that bit.

So he kept pretending his mistake had never happened. Acted like he was confused, not knowing what was going on. While originally he had come outside to inspect the elements right now he was instead searching for Eight who he knew must be around here somewhere. But he didn't need to audibly voice that out loud now did he?

Walking up to the top of a small incline, Three was taken aback by just how large this fake-world actually was. ...And just how fake it was. He saw hills everywhere, all of uncanny matching height, and a base level of ground that extended for as far as he could see. He thought back momentarily; wasn't this place under a see-through dome? It must have been bigger than he'd previously imagined. Either that or the rising mist was playing tricks with his mind.

With the weather turning to lightly snow, Three pondered over the best way to proceed. He had only walked a short distance so far and could easily climb up one of those larger hills to look around. Maybe he should go forward a little further straight and see what happens.

But just before he could take another step further, he saw a line of bright ink appear relatively close by in the distance.

And then, he heard the distinctive echo of a fully-charged E-Liter shot.

_**Pa-Donk!** _

And then, the distinctive vocals of his best friend.

_**"AAAAAAGGGGHH-"** _

Turns out he wouldn't have to search for very long.


	3. Distant memories bring me pain

"Switch it off."

Oh my fucking God. Oh, my, fucking, God. Just what the actual fuck is this?? It's his metro gear. He's got no fucking clothing.

This is not happening.

"AY. Do you hear me you fucks?! YEAH. I remember you. I know what's going on here. 'Agent 3 to Squidbeak' and shit, coming in loud and clear, got it? Crucify me later I don't care. I DON'T care. Just turn this snow and cold off, NOW."

Oh oh - he's bleeding. He's fucking bleeding all over me. Fuck he's so freezing cold. What do I do right now? What's the right thing to do?

"Eight?? It's Three. Please wake up."

OH, oh, oh fuck no, nooo. His - oh that's, oh uh that's really not good. Fuck. C'mere Eight, come on, please hold onto me. I'll get you out of here. Please wake up. Just, don't...

"...Do you fucking hear me? HELLOOO? LOOK AT EIGHT. LOOK AT HIM! HE'S FUCKED! NOW SHUT THIS FAKEASS SIMULATION SHIT RIGHT THE FUCK OFF AND COME TAKE HIM TO A HOSPITAL."

...No answer.

Nothing.

Fuck this. Fuck all you inhumane monsters. I'm in disbelief that you let this happen.

God - should I even be holding his wound like this? With my bare hand? What else am I supposed to use? What the fuck do I DO?

Ah, he's so light - I can probably pick him up against me with one arm. Just need this to stop bleeding...

Fucking metal shit in the way, get the fuck off me. Useless trash. Good luck in the snow.

I've - I've got him. He's on me. I'll wrap him back there. Poor fucking kid...

"I've got you, Eight. You're with me. I'll get you fixed up, I promise. You'll be okay. We'll be... okay."

\- - - - -

Successfully having returned to the wooden non-bunker carrying his injured friend, Agent 3 had wasted zero time getting to work on him right away. He was overwhelmed with choice from the 'medicine' shelf, which was worsened seconds later by him having clumsily scattered its contents while panicking his way through them.

Funny looking gloves, lengthy-named bottles of cream, a miniature library of tablets - what items were you meant to use for an emergency like this? He didn't have the faintest clue. The only importance in his mind was stopping Eight from bleeding and getting him warm. Nothing else at the moment mattered in the slightest.

Applying that mindset, he'd quickly settled on what came across as simple bandages, briefly hesitating on the notion of possibly taking a couple seconds to clean his wound with distilled water before realizing Eight had literally been lying in snow and wasn't going to be dirty. He'd scolded himself with a single shake of his head for having such a silly idea. High volumes of water weren't particularly good for them. Why did he always have stupid thoughts like that?

Long length of gauze unravelled in hand, Three wrapped around Eight's lower body several times, riding a fine line of balance between quickness and carefulness. He'd placed Eight on a bed in one of the rooms, noting two of them existing symmetrically across from one another which only heightened his confusion. But just like worrying over getting blood on the bed, figuring his grand situation out wasn't of any importance to him right now.

Agent 8 had made numerous noises throughout this process. Hitched breathing, slight gasps, but remained fully unconscious all the while nonetheless. Towards the end of his task Three had become less worried; finding Eight's injury to be less severe than originally anticipated. So much skin had been ripped which had caused the excessive bleeding but otherwise he hadn't seriously damaged anything internal.

He didn't doubt it hurt like hell for him though.

Finding himself finished Agent 3 took a moment to reflect. Eight was breathing steadily and otherwise okay, gauze visibly soaking blood but soon slowing and remaining fixed. Three wondered whether it was actually the blood loss that'd caused Eight to pass out or if it was actually due to his pure emotional shock. His freezing body probably hadn't helped, but might've with the side effect of slowing his overall circulation.

Relatively happy that things were generally okay, Three covered Eight with the bed sheets and sat across from him on the other, keeping close watch to ensure no further issues arose. This 'house' was unusually warm compared to the outside, even though there was no sight of heating or even a fireplace. This entire scenario was like something out of a fantasy novel. _If only the plot was too._

Whatever the case may be, Eight was at least safe for now.

Taking a more methodical look around this place, Three started brainstorming all manners of possible explanations for what was going on as a whole. Numerous things passed his vision: The mess of what was once a neatly displayed shelf, his fellow Agent across from himself, the small amounts of blood covering practically everything, the quickening snow occasionally tapping the window just out the corner of his eye, but all the while he remained focused on the task in his mind.

It was a big problem to work out. If nobody returned contact with them, how were they meant to get out of here?

\- - - - -

Agent 8 wasn't sure what sense he'd experienced first as he began to slowly regain consciousness. Was it the blurriness of his vision or the rippling pain through his midsection? Neither would be a better choice but it was something he could probably answer given enough thought.

It wasn't an important question. There was a much more paramount matter at hand. He knew he needed to wake up faster, what if he was in danger? But as it turned out for him, waking up faster was being a real struggle, and there wasn't much else to do for these painful minutes but lie here and think. (Though he'd be telling a lie if he said lying wherever here was wasn't the littlest bit comfortable.)

Could he hear anything? Nope. Taste anything? Not really. Smell? Barely; certainly not enough to determine what it was.

Thankfully he soon got somewhere. Sliding his hand backwards, he found himself able to now move it completely fine. Brushing over the edges of some strange fabric, he grimaced at the feeling of wetness in the centre, a very obvious answer in his mind of what it most likely was.

Feeling an essential need to inspect himself further, he moved to sit u-

"Ah-"

Whoops.

He'd just said that out loud by accident. He didn't even know where he was aside from being on someone's bed, had some kind of wound that he didn't remember getting, and yet he'd just notified his surroundings of him being awake. If he was anywhere else in the wild that action would probably have gotten him killed. A clear indicator of 'hey, I'm weak, and located over here'.

But due to where he was, that action was probably the best one he could have made instead.

Though hearing a shuffling across the room still made his every one of his hearts drop.

\- - - - -

Agent 3 locked up, becoming fully motionless as he halted his current thought process in its tracks. He'd been so preoccupied with setting a goal towards returning home that he hadn't even started on a scheme for handling Eight waking up. The realisation of unknowing neither what action to take next nor the overall state of Eight's memory had hit him collectively so suddenly that it continued to render him absolutely frozen for the multiple seconds that followed. Once again without warning he was met with a situation that he wasn't remotely trained for where no knowledge or experience he contained could be applied.

The small sound from Eight had triggered his initial response, followed by the sight of stirring across from himself, and before he knew it things had escalated from his old friend attempting to shift position to intensely laying his sights right back onto his own, seemingly fully conscious and now becoming highly uncomfortable.

Of course having prepared a plan in advance would have been the smarter move, but instead Three continued doing nothing at a genuine total loss of of what to do. He hadn't expected Eight to wake up so soon at all. Blinking hard, he looked his fellow Agent over a second time in hopes of finding something to build from. It's not like he's never improvised before. It's just never been this serious...

As per his luck, the outcome from his second viewing resulted in nothing more than a reconfirmation of the expression he had received before. A pure mixture of Octoling confusion and fear. He couldn't recall having ever seen Eight's eyes that wide before, until his own memory reminded him of around one week back. Which he hated. Why was it always Eight who had to go through things like this?

A horrible thought of Eight potentially only recognising him as the enemy from long ago entered his mind but he shook it near instantaneously; with a newfound determination to calm Eight for his own wellbeing having taken priority instead. The last thing he wanted was for him to hurt himself. At least he wasn't screaming from the simple sight of him.

Still unknowing his own intentions, Three swiftly stood up, shocking both himself and Eight simultaneously. Pulling out his Splattershot and discarding it to the ground, he regained focus on his friend, making a clear scene in an effort to force himself to do something further. There was no going back now.

Knowing just how blood-stained his clothing was would have made his next choice easier.

\- - - - -

"Ayy-t? Ihhz mhii, Ayyjnn ffrii."

Okay, it's definitely someone else.

Relax! Relax. I _must_ relax. I will waste my chance of survival if I anger them. Reacting out of fear will not progress me forward.

It's strange. They dropped their weapon only moments before but it appeared to be fully intentional. And their face. It seems... worried. But not with danger, more with concern. And just what is that ink bridging between their eyes? That looks funny.

"Arr, ahh... arr yuuw uhl-wiiht?"

Oh yes yes, they're still speaking to me. But I didn't understand any of those words, nor what they said to me before. I think they're a form of words at least.

Do they want to hurt me? I don't think they do. Not yet, at least. Their clothing is really messy. Are they hurt too? There's a lot of medicine over there.

This isn't good. They aren't speaking anymore. I must not get into trouble! I must not be performing whatever they requested from me. Let me try communicating back. What if they speak what I do?

...Wait, what do I speak? What's it called again?

...

...I can't seem to remember... language right now. Um...

Huh, that's... really weird. I ah, I really can't think of anything. Greeting, greeting... I know there's a word for doing that. Oh - I can use gestures! I can move my hands to say things. That's um, that's great, but I can't... seem to recall that one, either, uhh...

I'm... I'm not sure what to think. I'm trying to remember my name, now, but I don't seem to know that, either. I... I don't even know my species name.

But I know how I look! I don't have black ink between my eyes like them! I know I don't. I remember me, I really do. But I'm still not sure who 'me' actually is.

How did I get here, again? Did they take me here? Where was I before? All I remember is feeling a bit cold somewhere.

Oh, I don't even care about that - why can't I think up anything from my memory? Why? Why can't I do it? I wasn't recently born. What is my past?

This doesn't make any sense at all. I know things. I know I breathe oxygen to survive. I know that machine the other was carrying fires ink. I know I can generate ink and fire it too. I know how to activate that machine - weapon - as well. I know what I was feeling before was temperature, I know the emotion on their face was concern, I know the sun has set and will rise with time - I know these things! I know them, I know them.

I've learnt them from somewhere. Read them, been told them. But just where did I read them? Who was it who told me them? Think, think, _think, **think...**_

...Ah, I must be acting too strange externally. They're rushing over to me now. Oh no. This is it, isn't it? I've just messed up. I just wasted it.

Please don't hurt me.


	4. My spirit has been fragmented

Originally, things had been looking up for Three: with Eight showing full attention once he had spoken his name. Filling in the blanks would be a breeze if Eight still had memory of his somewhat recently christened nickname from Cuttlefish. However, with the lack of any response back and identical blank reactions to any word Three later vocalised - it soon became apparent to him that Eight wasn't actually understanding a thing. Aside from the emotion of concern plastered all over the funny person standing before him, that was.

As per usual, this event didn't take long to start rolling even further downhill - which was nothing short of clockwork for Agent 3's life. Sometimes he felt like an unlucky aura actually followed him wherever he went. Eight had eventually gotten himself fully upright, eyesight still focused purely in his direction, only to begin zoning out slightly. It was a worrying enough sight by itself, but it continued to increase rapidly until he was completely oblivious to his own surroundings, gaze drooping downwards and expression turning into one of deep thought. That alone was cause enough for Three's concern to jump up a level; but it was the sudden shaking of Eight's frame that spun him into physical action almost automatically.

He darted over in no more than a couple seconds, multiple thoughts rushing through his mind with only one breaking through into clarity; though it was less of a thought and more of an appropriately timed recall. When Agent 3 had first met Eight, he'd quickly learnt how sensitive the Octoling was to physical contact. When everything that touched you was typically trying to hurt you it wasn't exactly challenging to piece together where his impulsive reaction stemmed from. It had taken Three over a week to even bring up the concept of hugging other people for simple affection. Their existing relationship had almost crossed a month and Three had still been slowly chipping away at the basic level of Eight's defensive instinct to repel all touching. It was easily the slowest development in their relationship.

Three's subconscious, however, didn't seem to care about any of that, as now standing directly in front of Eight it instead elected to have him lower down and embrace the other rather tightly, startling the both of them as Three tried to process what he'd just done and Eight's mind was yanked back to reality from the sheer strength of the sensation. Agent 3 regretted his action right as he took held of him. Eight had literally just felt pain due to the slightest movement, and now he was doing this to him? Had he even embraced him this strongly back in the real world before? This was a mistake, he narrated to himself. This isn't going to work.

Through and through, a foolish move.

Yet he didn't find himself letting go.

With the immediate feeling of a tightness all over his body, Eight didn't react immediately, his head still clearing up. But when it hit him that he was no longer capable of moving once more he'd instantly begun an escape from being pinned, attempting to fight using every part of his body and all the strength he could muster. Not to discredit Eight as a more than capable fighter, but in his state and up against the likes of Agent 3, his resistance wasn't particularly much for the older agent to handle.

Still swearing at himself for his impulsive move, Three opted to retain his hold on Eight further instead of letting him free, with his buzzing thought process being somewhere along the lines of not knowing what Eight would do otherwise. That's what he justified it with, anyway. He just continued, in complete silence, gripping Eight with a constant steady force. His mind had been racing non-stop for too long, and now having to comprehend being a complete stranger to his previous best friend was almost about to break him.

But nevermind all that. Whatever, you know? It's all fine. These were Three's simplified thoughts as he pretended to disregard everything working against him. It was okay. As long as Agent 8 wasn't feeling pain, he'll keep holding until the both of them eventually calm down. No matter how long it'd take. It'd be all right. Nothing, could, go, wrong.

A small block of time passed, around a third of a minute. Eight had stopped fighting back now as it was pretty obvious to himself that he wasn't getting anywhere. For a brief point the room became fully soundless, with the sole exception being light rain softly colliding against glass in the connecting room. At least it was getting better outside. Three couldn't believe Eight had never yelled a thing during this whole ordeal. Come to think of it, he hadn't vocalised anything at all since way before, which was brewing into yet another serious worry for him.

But even with that hidden troubling thought, the air in the building was feeling much calmer now. Eight's rapid heartbeats were still felt by Three, intensely pronounced just as hard as before, but the core panic emanating him had certainly subsided.

Then a new sound entered the room. A few sniffs became audible. Followed by some more. These continued until changing into what sounded like quiet choking.

Unmistakably, Agent 8 was beginning to cry.

It was the right time for Three. It was time to move on from this. He couldn't have Eight feeling like all hope for him was lost.

Ever so carefully, he slowly relaxed his grip, unwinding further and further until finally Eight was granted the freedom of upper movement. Pulling back more, Three traced both hands up Eight's back to each of his shoulders in an effort to remain them steady, which probably wasn't the best idea if the sequence of jerks he felt was anything to go by. Having pre-existing knowledge of Eight's general reaction to contact meant he probably should have planned around that; one of many noticeable side effects from forging his actions on the fly.

Either way, the two were now once again separated from each other, with Three having sat down on the same blood-stained bed as Eight. Shifting himself further across to give his Octoling friend more room, Three chose to still keep his hands immobile near him, resting them on the covers beside Eight as their eyes locked together for the second time.

Tears were steadily flowing and breath was still shaking as Eight stared into Three, and his face couldn't be more defined as the opposite of happiness. On occasion his gaze would snap to one of the older Agent's hands for a fraction of time, almost unnoticeable before returning directly back to the squid's pupils. Almost. Three kicked himself once more for his actions but didn't show it visually. Him doing that must have seriously terrified him.

"You're okay, Eight." Three decided to whisper, ensuring to not once take his eyes off the other's. He had yet to work out a friendly way to proceed any further and had settled on talking to stall for time. There was nothing more in the world he hated than seeing Eight so upset. He couldn't even read anything more from Eight's face than what he would summarize as complete and utter sadness.

"You're okay," he repeated, sliding his hands away from Eight entirely and setting them by own lap. Maybe those weren't helping after all.

Eight continued staring, tears beginning to fade and a look of terror thankfully being free from his face. Three began repeating the phrase rhythmically, and each time he did Eight would nod his head ever so slightly, round ears gently twitching as they desperately tried to pick up something interpretable. He hadn't jumped at the original sound at all, almost as if he expected something like it to happen. The nodding wasn't clear to Three - whether Eight was signalling understood agreement, appreciating the new lack of contact, communicating he was listening or the words were simply soothing to him - he was at least momentarily peaceful as he focused on them.

Finding forgiveness within himself over the outcome of what had just taken place, Three thought it best to return to his own bed now as a way to fully return the space he had temporarily stolen rather forcefully. Though unintentionally, him making such an awkward move to begin with had made this following silence all the less awkward. Flashing the other a small smile as he moved to get up, he got ready to observe what Eight would decide to do next. This hadn't been so bad overall. It'd be best to leave things on a neutral note, if not one of positivity.

But Eight shocked him before he was even prepared. Just as he began his movement Eight's hand uncharacteristically swung up with great speed, face wincing as he did so, and even more uncharacteristically was held around his own before he even felt the brush of cool air generated from his previous action. The motion had stretched the rest of his upper body, causing a spark of pain to run through him which he chose to ignore. Tried to, at least, because Agent 3 still took note of it.

"Yhhr uhkkay?", Eight poorly attempted to repeat back, and to Three's utter disbelief was very gently trying to pull his hands back towards himself. With how softly Eight was pulling it was almost more of a signal than a proper effort, but it was a signal Three understood nonetheless.

But it didn't make sense. This couldn't be further from the Agent 8 he knew back when they first met on good terms. Physical contact was his toughest obstacle by far. But to be fair, at the same time, it wasn't often you saw the mission machine Agent 3 acting all soft like this, either. But was that really a faithful comparison?

Three had a moment of hesitation. The signal was too foreign. Was Eight trying to trick him into some sort of trap? Soon however, he reminded himself of Eight's current weak state... so he did it. Instead of backing up as planned, all while ignoring Eight's HIGHLY unusual voice for a moment, Three complied and closed the distance once again, jaw almost dropping as he witnessed Eight raise his hands to perform what was no question the exact same action Three had done to him previously.

It was abruptly cut before taking place, though, due to Eight suddenly voicing a pained whine and placing his hand back down over himself instead.

Changing it up from scolding himself internally, Three scolded himself aloud instead. That was another one for the list of things he should've saw coming.

\- - - - -

Three's 'introduction' had been going pretty well all things considered, especially taking into account how he'd been winging the whole thing thus far. Eight was relatively calm and had paid attention to Three's words - even if he was yet to understand them. And while his use of a friendly gesture hadn't been very smoothly applied, there was still a thin layer of trust Three had formed which he was becoming eager to build from.

But with Eight's very own latest action it'd been completely shattered. Replaced by a single thought that while fully incorrect... was one Agent 8 now firmly believed.

His injury had hurt then. A lot. After only receiving small pricks of pain flaring up and feeling fine aside from an overall weakness Eight had assumed it wasn't hugely serious, convinced furthermore by him not being able to see himself properly, but that was something he no longer believed.

There'd been a lot of blood stained on his newly found acquaintance but he had paid little mind to it, thinking he was injured too.

But Three wasn't injured. Only Eight was. And with his wound still being fresh, his blood covering the other, and with their go-to response being strong physical contact - Eight had made an educated guess with the little information he'd gathered on just who had caused this to him. He didn't see anyone else around and obviously wouldn't do it to himself.

He didn't even know this person. But he knew they didn't look like he looked. What was their goal with him? Torture? Murder? Experimentation? Had he done something to them or their friends in the past? He didn't know.

It wasn't normal not to be able to think properly. What had they done to his brain? Was this part-two of it, the physical abuse following the mental? They had literally been sat there watching him suffer before he'd even woken up. How hadn't he picked up on the strange evilness of this sooner?

He was in their small little house, under their control, with no idea where he was or who he was.

It wasn't right.

\- - - - -

"Oh n-no, I wrapped that before, you..."

Agent 8 wasn't having it. On a complete turnaround from their previous exchange Eight was now making it very clear he didn't want anything to do with him anymore.

Three already knew what he was thinking.

"I, I - That - I was wanting to fix that for you." He attempted to explain, now without a smudge of confidence only serving to make his case look even worse. When you already know who you're talking to isn't understanding you, it's questionable why you would even bother doing so in the first place. But literal meaning wasn't the problem Three was facing with his words anymore. It was the impression they made which mattered to him now.

Eight simply ignored him, face becoming utterly free of any readable emotion. He began observing his surroundings in silence, showing zero importance towards him whatsoever. Once again Three was slightly taken aback by his actions. Even knowing what was clearly running through Eight's mind, every time he thought he could somewhat predict his next move he failed. This was one hell of a bold move from him. What if he actually DID want to harm him? He'd always found the Octoling had a very unique way of handling things. He was never once simple to read thoroughly. Maybe it was remnants derived from his alone times in the metro.

"I can help that heal if you'll let me."

Three was mostly was just hoping Eight wouldn't randomly try running for it. Or injure himself further with another large movement.

But being outright ignored, Three let out a small sigh. Being ignored was a fantastic method of making him feel irritated. Outstretching an arm pointing, unintentionally making himself aware of just how close they were still seated, he called out his friend's name.

"Eight?"

No response.

"Eight?"

More of the same.

"Eight."

Agent 8 wasn't giving him the smallest pinch of satisfaction.

"E i g h t."

That tone seemed to do it, with a pair of Octoling eyes finally taking notice. Determined eyes, with an aggressive feel behind them. Predator-esque. What an unusual sight to see.

Nonetheless to its rareness Three found it practically effortless to continue speaking without a flinch. Being an Inkling who lived and breathed violence this was nothing to him. It was sad to see Eight so against him, but he already knew from before that he was lacking the majority of his strength and couldn't do much harm. It was a decent enough effort but, eh... Maybe if he was an Inkling instead it'd look more threatening and less cute.

Or if Three had actually forgotten his memories of his classic Agent work like intended.

Mirroring his gesture with a twist of his wrist, Three pointed at himself and spoke his name.

"Three."

Nothing happened, but Three was far from giving up. He started again, repeating their names, adding another pause at the end to wait for a reaction. Still nothing.

So he did it again, even slower this time.

Finally giving him a response... Eight just tilted his head a little.

This wasn't good. Eight was laying his eyes on him but lacked proper interest. His most known emotion, frustration, was beginning its familiar build-up.

But he had to chill. Had to take it slow. He had nobody to blame for Eight thinking this but himself, and couldn't let his emotions dictate the pace of Eight bonding with him. Rushing this wouldn't make it happen any faster - only the opposite.

Three slid over a little, doing his best to appear uninterested in Eight's sudden scrambling hands to cover over his bandages to protect himself as best he could. Eight really did believe it was him, didn't he? Carefully reaching out to tap him lightly, he hoped this approach would make what he was doing more clear. He needed to get Eight speaking to him again. It was important. And just as importantly would take his mind off what it was currently on.

"Ei-"

Agent 8 smacked Three's hand back with his dominant hand right away, replicating both actions of wincing and sending back an aggressive look a second time over. It was about the most crystal clear notion of 'stop touching me' he could deliver, and it shocked Three to the core. Outside of their battle when they were first enemies, Eight had never once hurt him. Not once. No accidents, jokes, or side effects of anger. And that was a fairly strong swipe; probably all of the strength he had just went into it.

That was the breaking point.

Three sat there, looking at his hand. He was just stunned. This was it, then. He'd fucked up for good.

He didn't make a further movement. Just continued his gaze on his recently whacked fingers. His shocked expression soon faded but sadness never recovered.

What was there to do? What could he even do. Should he just give Eight time? Abandon his best friend while he's injured all while he continues believing he was the one who caused the damage to his skin? At least then he'd feel safer. Because what else was there? That was the best option he had. And it was shit. Just what the fuck had he just made happen? He'd screwed this, and it was all his fault. He should've arranged something properly, not think about a long-term goal. He only had one shot at this and it was happening now, whereas he had endless time for the other and endless attempts too. His priorities were all wrong. Dumb mistakes, all the time. Why? Why couldn't he be smarter?

The silence continued. Eight picked up where he left off in scanning his whereabouts. This time, though, his ignorance towards Three didn't last, and he instead found himself getting more and more curious towards the squidkid.

Then, unexpectedly, Three stood back up. Turning his back to the person he cared for most, he adapted a slow pace and started walking forwards, eyes looking straight at the wall ahead. He knew Eight had been looking at him but could no longer bring himself to do the same back. Having made it to the other side he turned to his right, passing his bed and outstretching his arm preemptively, ready to turn the handle on the door leading to the outside 'world' they were stuck in. He heard a noise of movements from Eight's bed but realised he no longer cared to what the Octoling was doing.

And with that, he stopped.

How dare he.

Three was utterly disgusted in himself. He already knew it was just the anger within himself talking, but no. No no no. His relationship with Eight was like nobody else's. He did care about him, incredibly so. Was he really about to do this? Give up on him like a failure so quickly? He never cared if he failed on something only he wanted, but that wasn't true here. Whether he knew it or not, Eight needed him right now. It was beyond any doubt that Eight hadn't retained memory like he had. This was obvious. Eight had no idea what was going on. He would never make it back home without Three. He probably didn't even know home was a place that existed.

Three bet he looked real strange just standing there if Eight could manage to see him but he didn't care. No way, he's not giving up. What if the roles were reversed, would Eight give up on him? Not even that, would Eight even have the AUDACITY to have the very THOUGHT of giving up on him for something he had no part in causing yet was being forced to go through? Over GENUINE and FULLY REASONABLE reactions, resulted from his own failure to pre-plan?

God. How dare he?!

Three felt sick. Like he wasn't himself. Nevertheless, he removed his hand from the handle and turned himself back around. He could stay across from Eight for today if it'd make him feel at ease. Just for a day, so he could get a bit more confidence in believing he lacked any intention of harming him. He could do that for him. Or two days. Or however much time it took, to be frank. This wasn't some random person. It was Agent 8. He wouldn't fail him, honestly now. How could he be so quick to give up on someone he borderline adored? He needed to get back in there and give him some time.

Before even walking back to his own bed though, Agent 3 found his newfound comeback plan being scrapped on the spot from what he saw in the corner of his vision. Without realising Eight had been going through another kind of zoning-out episode, and he'd only just manage to catch him at the end of it before he came to.

Eight's face was different now. After his thoughtful one ended his replacement lacked all aggression. There was no anger, fear, confusion or anything prior. It was brand new.

Only now noticing Three watching over him once more, Eight let out a loud gasp, nodding his head at him eagerly as if wanting to draw greater attention. With Three swiftly re-entering the same room as him, starting to get confused out of his mind, Eight nodded fast once more, next proceeding to act out a short sequence of motions. Pushing away the remaining covers on his bed, he showed his bloody wrapped side in full view to Three, placing his right hand directly over it and pointing to him with the other. His first gesture. Communication. But why? And just what was he trying to say?

But for a moment that didn't even matter. Nothing no longer did. As to Three's delight, Eight then did something much more wonderful that made his worries wash away faster than he knew possible.

Agent 8 smiled at him. And spoke a single word.

"Fffff-rii."


	5. My courage has been dissipated

Agent 3's mind had been borderline tortured throughout every recent event of his so-called "mission's" happenings. As a squid who peak performed in almost every physically challenging activity, it had been quite the setback getting mentally overwhelmed at every single instance. Not one of his biggest strengths, unmistakably. Especially with the frustrated voices that started to rise in volume within his own thoughts over the smallest of personal failures.

Let's just say it was a good thing Eight decided to say his name when he did.

To write that Three had managed to regain Eight's trust with relative ease would appropriately be considered an outright lie. Their new relationship had very slowly begun progressing forward, only to bounce backwards further into the opposite direction, and now Agent 3 found himself being fully wanted. The turnaround had actually been so easy that you'd think some kind of switch had randomly flipped in the Octoling's head. Three didn't even have to DO anything.

Eight had repeated his name many times over after the first, holding both hands out towards him and otherwise staying motionless to avoid causing pain for himself again. He looked at Three directly with such determination and longingness that was almost making him feel uncomfortable. Intimidated, even, which was funny in contrast to Eight's previous failure to attract that response when he was actually meaning to do so purposefully. This flip of Eight's feeling towards him came out of nowhere. What if it flipped back?

Wanting to fixate on the bigger positive rather than the fear of the potential unknown, Agent 3 made his way back towards him, his own arms beside himself being close enough for Eight to take hold. Though he didn't do the same back.

"Eight...? You ah, you remember me...?"

The silence and head tilt he received back unfortunately stated otherwise. Or at the very least, Agent 8 still wasn't understanding him. That tilt he kept doing was starting to become iconic.

Releasing his grip on the other's arms, Three had to flinch backwards with how close a finger arrived right before his face. Pointing was the only gesture Eight continued to replay to him.

"...Yeah?"

"Fff, Fff-riii."

"Mmhm, that's me. Agent 3. ...Right?"

Adding the slight question at the end, Three was wishing to hear any kind of different word come forth from his mouth, even if it was one he couldn't personally understand. His Octarian was horrific by even his low standards of most things in general, but he could work with simple words Eight was willing to do the same. He had considered voicing 'Hello' himself earlier in the language but eventually stopped himself from doing so, a feeling of angst having swayed his decision with the possibility of it confusing Eight further. Or triggering even worse unknown recollections.

Or having resulted in Eight refusing to talk in Inkling afterwards.

"F-rii."

Well, new words weren't happening right now, but at least improvements were.

"Three." Agent 3 confirmed with a nod. Eight was looking at him with such curiosity, like he was now the most interesting being that could ever be imagined. It was just... weird. It was yet another surprise to him. He was definitely pleased with being wanted nearby again but felt distinctly saddened from the clear lack of recognition. Agent 8 had been finding his ink mask most intriguing, focusing between his eyes onto the deep shade various times over the day, which only strengthened Three's thought of the likeliness of him remembering nothing at all. He remembered Eight examining all of the Squidbeak member's different masks at his first glace on each of them.

Unwavered by the other's changed expression, Eight turned his hand and pointed to himself, mimicking what the older Agent had shown him earlier. Expecting a word to go with it, Three nodded back and waited patiently, understanding Eight's desire to build knowledge of their names. However, upon another tilt of the Octoling's head and no words going with it, he made what was obviously the wanted move and filled in the blank for him.

"Eight. You are Agent 8."

"Ayy-T." Eight immediately attempted back with moderate success. This one seemed easier for him to pronounce. His voice was still totally different from before, slightly higher pitched with a hard pronunciation of vowels, but still held what was undeniably a heavy Octarian accent. The reoccurring technicalities and base building sounds of Inkling must truly be brand new to him again.

"Yeah! Eight." Three was putting a blind eye to his voice and instead congratulated his friend, feeling a sense of joy coming forth over him having said a new word. Vocal communication again. With his best friend. He certainly wanted this to continue.

Eight, however, was now looking rather sad. He nodded in return, another clone of Three's previous action, then looked away as his lip began to tremble before hanging his head slightly.

Sadness, again.

Three didn't understand.

\- - - - -

Guilt was overflowing the young Octoling.

From his second attempt at grasping past memories the time of him in the snow had come rushing forwards. He still didn't know how he got there but everything else had returned. His scenario, his mistake, and ultimately... his saviour.

The voice matched perfectly. The demeanour proved it further. With the events lining up every trace of evidence here was forming into nothing more than an act of pure kindness.

And he'd resented him. Misjudged him. Almost brought him to the edge of l e a v i n g.

He felt awful. He'd acted so nasty, so judging. All towards someone who wanted to help him further, after ALREADY having done so.

But an interruption postponed his want of apologising without neither of them expecting so, as a second feeling abruptly rushed through him; the identical high surge of pain that'd made itself known before. It lingered on this time, refusing to decline, and he couldn't help himself from grasping over his wound and letting a whimper escape his mouth. He shut his eyes tight, grinding his teeth as he prayed the feeling would subside. But his wish wasn't getting answered. The pain was only mounting.

He began lowering down slowly, descending at a steady pace. It wasn't from his own doing - but he couldn't manage to feel the hands that were guiding him so through the rising agony still flowing so hard. Lying parallel to the bed once more, he wasn't able to make out the other before his awareness was reduced to nothing once more.

\- - - - -

The outside world had gotten dark by now, and Agent 8 had yet to wake up. Stating Three was worried would be one heck of an understatement. He'd paced around for hours, going down multiple avenues only to find none producing any kind of suitable solution. Agent 8 wasn't dead, chest rising and lowering exactly as it had done before he'd waken up before, and Three equated both of his unconscious incidents to the simple answer of his body's response to the pain. But even believing it to wholeheartedly be the case, the small feeling of relief it provided wasn't nearly enough to calm his concern.

Eventually, Agent 3 put himself to his own bed. There was no way to tell what time it was but he definitely felt like he could use a rest. He didn't dare explore outside further in the dark, not wanting to get lost or for Eight to wake up alone. His attempts at communicating with the remaining hardware that was previously attached to him got no results either. Evaluating all his other options a final time, sleeping again seemed like the best use of his current time. So he lied there, motionless, trying to pull his thoughts away from everything that was going on. Where he was, who'd put him here, and the distress his best friend was unfairly going through.

He could successfully block out all but the last one.

\- - - - -

Undoing his previous somewhat-shoddy bandage work had proved a fair bit more difficult than originally anticipated, but that expectation paled in comparison to the relief Three felt at the sight of it exposed. Sure it was sticky, raw, and looked pretty nasty; but the damage in total remained to be nothing that wouldn't easily heal with time. The jolts of pain he'd seen from Eight had been getting him worried of seeing something much worse, however thankfully for the both of them his original examination remained correct.

"Nngh-"

"Yeah I know this feels pretty stingy, trust me I've had plenty of first-hand experience. In fact, you even did this for me personally before, all by yourself without anyone else involved. That was just hours after I first met you as well! It's kinda crazy that you did that for me without even hesitating, eh?"

"...Nn-Ackk-"

"You sure got results in that span of time too, let me tell you. I thought, well, I STILL think you must have been so tired after finally surpassing that place, wanting to rest immediately after having proved everyone wrong. But you still took the time to do that for me first, didn't you? Even when I distinctly told you t-"

"Thhree-"

Eight reached up a shaky arm to place against Three's shoulder. Three was more impressed with his clear pronunciation.

"Nice job! That was damn near perfect, Eight. What's up?"

Looking down at Eight, Three instantly knew he'd still managed to misjudge his injury's severity a little. Not in the department of physical damage but instead in the one of pure pain.

"R-Right, okay, okay. I'll stop now."

This morning had played out nicely for the Agents, with no crazy emotion inverts or drastic events to write home about. With Three's help Eight had soon been standing upright fully, finally free from the bed he was getting close to being stuck in for a whole 24 hours. When seeing his friend stand around without the confidence to go anywhere or touch anything Three had taken initiative straight away, telling him all about his plan to explore outside today in addition to cleaning off the dry blood from them both. He'd went ahead with cleaning Eight's wound as well, not wanting to take any chances with an infection popping up after realising if one did happen to arise he wouldn't at all know what to give him to remove it.

Eight continued looking to him as he'd done so throughout the entirety of this ordeal, absolutely clueless on just about everything Three had said, but was starting to grow fond of the fact he was talking to him often. Though he might have liked Three reaching back to pick up a new clean length of what was wrapped around him before even more. Whatever that other wet stuff was it sure hurt like hell!

"Sit nice and still for me now, okay? I'm almost done."

Even after receiving a shaky nod back in response, Three paused before he began looping the gauze around Eight's body, shifting focus back to his face as he spoke further with a quieter tone. His outlook was different today, less sporadic and more... gentle than yesterday. He decided to say something he should have also said yesterday.

"...You did great, by the way, Eight. Thanks... for trusting me... you know. I know you're scared right now, and you don't understand me, but still... it means a lot. I hope you think you'll be alright with me. Because we will be. Whatever is to happen... we'll get out of here together. I'll make sure of it."

Each word was slower, and even though every single one of their definitions were missing when picked up by Eight's round ears... somehow, against all other interpretations, the reassurance from them still got through.

He appreciated what he called his "teammate's" sentences, genuinely. As well the smile he was given to go with them. Curling his mouth upwards to send a smile back, Eight hoped he'd think the same of himself, until he found he wasn't smiling back at him nor able to actually do so.

"...Umm, Eight?" Three questioned, the look on his friend's face not being clear to him.

"Are you alright? You're... you're looking at me real strange there."

\- - - - -

Agent 3 knew what he saw.

There was no beating around the bush. It was that mind controlling substance from before. The same stuff that'd affected him just under a month back, and turned him against the people he loved.

'Impossible', he'd immediately lied to himself. There was no way. Tartar was dead. The remnants of that facility was miles from where they were. Eight had shook it off as well, just seconds after it'd shown itself within him. Back when Three was fused with that stuff it couldn't be pushed away.

But when taking another view through the window of the awkwardly shaped clouds far ahead of him, he stopped being able to convince himself that it wasn't at least a possibility in this place.

Eight had eyed him up almost aggressively, about looking as if he wanted to seriously fight. Three had called his name multiple times but it was like he didn't hear it, round ears not even twitching to the sound. He appeared focused solely on Three blinded to everything else - including himself. And then it'd just... passed. Eight's natural slightly-curious expression returning on the spot, which turned to sight confusion as he internally contemplated what had just happened.

'That wasn't him', Three knew. He knew all too well. The small scar on his eye proved it. And it terrified him.

He needed to get Eight out of here sooner than later.

\- - - - -

Looking beside himself at the other Agent, Agent 3 was pleased to see Eight finally complying with what he wanted to do. His plan was barebones but enough to get them started - go to where he originally found Eight to retrieve the abandoned E-Liter. It was sunny outside now, snow missing from most of the ground and a clear view of the land around. The perfect time. How hard could it be?

Continuing to watch Agent 8 sitting on his bed and struggling with his leather boots, Three disallowed himself to intervene and stayed idle by the door instead. Patience, patience. In no way did he want to simply watch Eight struggle with something, especially not something he could help him with, but it had been working so far in putting a stop to Eight's new-

"Three", the younger Agent spoke suddenly, his boot quickly sliding off his foot as his care for it vanished away instantly upon noticing Three was looking at him. Gazing directly back, he tapped his mouth rapidly, giving out pleading eyes in a desperate attempt to get his message across. He'd been doing this request for what felt like 100 times this morning.

Agent 3 wasn't stupid - he'd gotten it right away. But he still didn't want to spend the time on it yet.

"I know Eight, I know. You want me to teach you more. And I will, like I said - l a t e r. Alright? Please."

But this time, the Octoling wasn't satisfied. He continued his plea - repeating the squid's name over and over while drilling his vision into him, refusing to shift his focus back on finishing gearing up. It was annoying Three, who'd devolved into shaking his head without speaking any further. Exploring the outside world was extremely important to him right now. He needed to devise a scheme towards working on getting out of this place, and that would most likely be the best way to do so. He could talk to Eight later, when it was night and exploring was no longer an option. As a lesson he'd learnt from his very first mistake - not spending his time doing something equally important that only had a temporary timeslot wouldn't be a wise use of it.

Pulling down the door handle, Three objected once more, hoping the act of him doing so like this would portray his seriousness.

"Look, Eigh-"

Three's voice morphed into a yell as the door swung open abruptly, slamming itself on the inner wall after a dangerously fast rotation from its hinge. The sound of loud whistling wind engulfed the entire room, the strength backing it up launching objects airborne everywhere.

Pens, papers and small plastics on each shelf whizzed around Three as he shoved the door back in place with an intense burst of force, silently thankful it didn't break from consisting of such a hefty amount of wood. Even amongst the chaos he found himself making a mental note that this building was indeed not completely safe for Agent 8. Peering outdoors properly for the short moment before the door was back in place, he saw an entirely different sight that the window had portrayed. Rainclouds coupled with strong winds covered his vision without a lick of sunshine to be seen. He really needed to stop expecting similar behaviour to standard nature here.

With the door securely shut firm, the room shifted from rushing air to a silence. Objects quickly slid to a stop and Eight lowered his arms from covering his face. Turning to face his friend, Three felt almost embarrassed. He knew he wasn't crazy; the window across from himself still looked sunny and normal. Was the window itself not actually reflecting what was out there? Or was that side of this location really so opposite?

Eight meanwhile didn't look so pleased.

"...Right. Let's move on from that. Guess you'll be getting your wish after all."


	6. But there is something...

"Eight, drink. Good."

"...Yes."

Hours had passed into afternoon now, or at least as close to it as the fake time here could be called like such. Throughout Three's entire language session the single window attached to what was becoming their living space never once changed from the sunny and harmless looking sight it had shown previously. It was creating a problem for Agent 3 - he was just about wrapping up with Eight yet had no clue if the outdoors would be any different from what had shocked the two before.

Disregarding that, his teaching of simple language to Eight proven to be a great success. For the most part. Especially with pronunciation. Having Eight repeat the same word while Three progressively fine-tuned them better each time had proven very effective. Eight was doing well remembering words as well, successfully applying a correct sequence of them almost every time.

The singular issue that continued to stick out though was Eight getting rapidly confused when Three spoke, for lack of a better term: normally. All the extra filler words and general adjectives to smoothly join his nouns were complete obstacles to the Octoling, worsened by the occasional word Three would speak which happened to have multiple meanings. So for the time being, Three was attempting short, semi-broken sentences with him. The main thing from this exercise was just to understand one another, after all. It didn't have to be professional.

But it sure was a struggle for Three's brain to constantly break down perfectly fine dialogue into incorrect broken Inkling.

"...Ahh... no. Three, drink."

"I'm- Three is 'no thirsty'." He replied, once again reminding himself to knock out unnecessary words.

"...Three, drink."

"What, you don't trust me or something?" Eight got back quickly with a scowl, annoyance present in Agent 3's voice. Constructing these simple sentences was beginning to drive him crazy. As well as Eight's refusal to drink a simple glass of apple juice. "I know you're thirsty. It's not poisonous. I'd be shocked if some liquified fruit seriously managed to hurt you."

"Uhsss?" Agent 8 made an effort, round ears detecting a brand new word from what was otherwise a group of confusing sentences to him.

"Hmm? Ah- **repeat**."

"Thhus?"

"Trust?"

"Yes." Eight smiled, nodding a single time like always. Becoming a big fan of the gestures, Three noted.

Early on in the time they'd spent together endlessly speaking to one another, Three had made it a priority to give Eight control over every definition he provided. Knowing how the Octoling used to act he had no doubt that Eight would be happy to pretend he'd properly learnt a word even when he hadn't in reality - just to try keep him happy. With a lightbulb moment of 'genius' he'd gotten Eight to speak "define" and "repeat" after every single word, in which he would visually define the word once more and say it aloud a second time, until Eight realized what saying those words would have him do. After the 10th or so word, he'd stopped forcing Eight to say them, hoping he would understand to say them when needed. (Which thankfully he'd already picked up well ahead of him stopping.)

Three was proud of himself for that. 'A smart idea', he'd approved to himself. Unlike right now, for example, where he was having much less of a clever time struggling to explain what he'd just been asked.

"Trust? It's like, uh, friend- no, actually- Like, us."

"Us: Three, Eight?"

"Yeah! ...I guess. Now drink, Eight! For goodness sake."

"No! Drink, us!"

Three sighed and accepted defeat, grabbing the glass out of Eight's hand and taking a large swig before promptly handing it back to him. Even as he did so with a frustration feeling within him he couldn't help but crack a tiny smile at the other Agent. Even in this world, without his memories and seeing Three as nothing more than a friendly stranger, Agent 8 STILL managed to use his occasional stubborn tendencies towards nothing outside of putting Three's wellbeing before his own. Just like back in Inkopolis.

Getting little reminders of his companion's true identity with moments akin to that was turning into the most effective fuel in retaining Three's hunger to push forward.

\- - - - -

After having aided Eight in properly fitting his leather boots in addition to fully zipping up the outer parts of his clothing, the two Agents were now focused in unison on the task of retrieving the Octoling's prior weapon. Three still felt this would be the best first step towards finding a route home as well as being a good way to see Eight taking more literal first steps. He'd had taken notice of the slight noises from Eight as he'd bent downwards to pull each one of his boots upwards, both motions of bending and pulling clearly causing discomfort to his wounded side. He hoped that wasn't the same problem Eight was having with them last time. He would have been standing too far away to pick up on any noises he may have made.

He'd requested Eight to keep both hands on the large door before he slowly pried it open, in which Three would quickly push with him to prevent another round of air blasting through the place if the outside appeared no different from last time. Having seen nothing of the sort though, the two had set off without any further hesitation. There was no telling if another rush of craziness in the elements was to happen, but that was something neither of them would ever be able to answer with certainty either now or long in the future.

Even with having limited himself in walking speed as to not cause Eight difficulty with his damaged body, it hadn't taken the pair long to come up on their destination at all. Eight walked carefully alongside Three the whole way who'd continued matching his speed the entire time yet the travel time didn't even break 5 minutes. The landscape had really looked different with a thick covering of snow over everything combined with the foggy mini blizzard that had followed. All of the hills in every which direction hadn't changed in height or anything but looked much less threatening being topped with green grass. Now they just looked unnatural and creepy.

They were approaching the general location of the charger now, soon spotting it directly ahead with the black and yellow colouring heavily standing out from everywhere else in the environment. It was a little bloody looking at the non-firing end but any actual Octo-flesh stuck to it was long since gone, and it appeared completely untouched since Eight's mishap event had occurred, position having not changed in any way. Those crazy winds must have not been as strong up here - if they were even happening over here. With the unnatural state of this place it was impossible to know for sure. The concept of it having moved did bring up a good question though; were they truly alone in here together or could someone else have taken it?

Three had been thinking about Eight being up here throughout their short travel. The E-Liter was a weapon Eight used to be a complete master of, and he himself had been given a Splattershot, which was much of the same for his own personal preference. During every single re-run explanation of what he would be doing here, Agent 3 was never once told weapons would even be available; let alone outright being given them from the very start.

Like, was the lack of communication from back home intentional right now? Or is the non-existent contact that was still ongoing a real error? He'd announced the knowledge of remembering who he was so early on, saying both of their Agent numbers hundreds of time afterwards, a clear failure which should've had everything terminated immediately. But here they were. Still here. But Three could drop it down further still, imagining if things had gone to plan successfully anyway and he also no longer had his memories - would they be subconsciously tempted to fight one another by having weapons so readily available for use?

Agent 3 shook his head, wanting to be more realistic. He had retained memories of everyone and may as well be using them while not being flooded with anger anymore. As much of a horrible idea this had been to agree to go ahead with in the first place, not even taking into account how much worse it'd managed to become, his comrades in Squidbeak weren't evil people. And it wasn't like Pearl and Marina didn't play a crucial part to Eight's overall survival. Those people had a part of involvement with this 'trial' and neither of them would comfortably have him be placed somewhere freezing without proper clothing.

With the trip being so unexpectedly short and stopping his internal debating early, he'd settled on the conclusion that something really had just gone terribly wrong. Everything seemed to be so random, with no clear pattern, and nobody had arrived to take either of them when Three had found Eight in his injured state. Three'd obliterated numerous devices on impact from ripping them off his clothing as well, he doubted there would be much feedback right now even if everything else was working as designed. Their friendly conversations have already fulfilled the task anyway, half-genuine when taking Eight's wiped memory into account.

No. Both of them were, without a doubt, completely isolated from everyone back home. Nothing they did was reaching back there and for whatever reason nobody there could reach them here. There hadn't even been a single sound of just one helicopter in the far distance since the original drop-off.

It was kinda scary. Very scary really. But also... kinda cool, in a way. At least to Three. He'd certainly call it a fresh experience compared to everything else he'd done. Nothing even came clo-

"Three?", a small voice spoke.

Whoops. He hadn't exactly gone through with that thought-stopping strongly.

"Hmmm? Oh, sorry. Let's uhh, get going shall we?" He said back optimistically, decently masking the slight embarrassment of being caught off guard. What was he doing just now? Literally just standing still doing nothing for a bit? It wouldn't be unheard of.

"Going...?" Eight begun, having a pause to think over his words. Even though Three was often the most impatient squid in any room he had no issues waiting for Eight each time, in the same way he had no issue showing attention to his name. Even if a certain Octo-person did sometimes feel like speaking it ten times over in rapid succession.

"...No here?" He finished, moving his head to the side like usual. Of all the things Eight had forgotten, somehow his head tilt for all forms of questions had made it through. Maybe it was just instinctual.

"Like, where're we going?" Three easily corrected, slightly confused at the question he'd just been asked. What did Eight mean by going? They'd literally only just gotten to their destination.

Three's shot at clarifying was immediately escalated into something bigger due to Eight's still poor comprehension of certain words. He associated each word with a concrete definition and it caused incorrect translation more often than not, and this was one of those times. Eight's shocked face over such a standard sentence visually showcased to Three that he seriously needed to find a way to teach him proper sentences future before he even realised why it'd occurred. He'd already forgotten to speak 'simple' himself.

"No! No going, Three!" Eight shouted back in response, before quickly reaching out to take hold of his wrist. At least Eight'd made it clear what word he had a problem with. He shook his head again, looking up at the older squid.

"No goi-"

"Where are WE going. WE. Like, 'us' going. Three, Eight, going together. Okay?"

"...Us going?"

"Yes. I'm not going to leave you, Eight. Jesus."

"... ...Okay."

As previously stated, most of these corrections annoyed Three to a degree, but this one had now became the first exception to that annoyance. In every case he knew Eight couldn't help it and was in no way doing it on purpose but this conversation had transcended above that. Indirectly knowing Eight wanted him nearby in such a concrete manner was information that made him feel good inside.

There was still no clarification coming from Eight in what he meant, though. Three could have sworn he'd made sure Eight knew what they were doing. Or had he really just been following him blindly this whole time in actuality?

"Well, to answer you: now that it's - **sunny** \- , we're going - **over there** \- to where I found - **you** \- before." Three explained at a steady pace, ensuring to act out everything essential with a pause and overemphasized body language. He couldn't help but think that this is the kind of thing you'd do for really young children, and it made him feel quite sad for the younger Agent. It almost felt derogatory, speaking like this to him. He was smart enough to admit the Octoling had stronger mental intelligence than he did before, though he was sure Eight would never admit it back.

"...And we're going over there to - **pick up** \- that - **weapon** \- that caused your - **injury** \- before." Finally finished, Three just hoped he hadn't just put things in a grand perspective to make Eight feel inadequate or something.

But to his surprise, Eight was beaming at him instead.

"Three! Happy, happy!" He exclaimed with joy, taking hold of him once more and looking directly to his eyes to force attention on himself.

"Us Eight Three, going... pihk wehppn... nnjrrei." He repeated back straight away with a hand on himself, nodding as he finished.

The pronunciation of the new words was pretty off, but for Three, that was perfect. Long sentences being understood and multiple words being taught at once?

He sure knew how he was teaching from now on.

\- - - - -

"Pick it up, Eight!" Three'd called, standing with the long weapon at his feet. Eight had very obviously started trailing behind, still standing closer to the area their last conversation took place, but Three was pretending not to notice. He knew it was simply Eight's bad memory from before causing it. If he showed no importance to being around such a powerful weapon from the get-go it had the possibility of quickly lessening the fear his friend felt as well.

But the thing he got back he couldn't have guessed in a million years.

"Pihk it up, Three!"

After a fraction of internal processing Agent 3 found himself laughing out loud, the surprise of a joke almost being more powerful than the words themselves. Eight had spoken with the same order-like tone as Three, doing a direct mimic of the other with an attempt at his accent as well, and soon enough was giggling too. He'd realized just how often he'd been copying the other in his own way while learning - but never did so in such a blatant 1:1 way like that.

What a weird thing they were going through together.

Getting back on track shortly after, Three picked the charger up and held it out in front of himself.

"You want it?" He offered, opting to not add an additional 'just try not to shoot me' suffix as a counter-joke. That wouldn't be funny.

Now met with the decision again, Eight was hesitant for a moment but ultimately shook his head. As he heard the question there was an uneasy feeling residing within him over the nature of gathering a dangerous tool in the first place, but his remembrance on what Three had done for him squashed it without second thought. Three had taken his Splattershot all this way too and Eight hadn't batted an eye to it - even though he knew exactly what it was capable of doing.

It was a strange set of knowledge within him. He understood the complexity of himself in light of survival as well as the mechanical workings in many different weapon variants he had yet to even see but... nothing else whatsoever.

Looking back at his teammate to see what he had planned with the weapon, Agent 8 was shocked to see him suddenly dropping it and rushing over somewhere else instead. He quickly made his way over as well, having realised how far away he was still currently standing.

He recognized this exact position. It was spot-on to where he'd 'awoken' and damaged himself before.

But now, with the lack of snow around, it had revealed what he'd been secretly standing on all along without either of their knowledge.

It was a grated manhole.

Agent 3's face was full of happiness, his body practically dancing at having seen the sight of it, and noticing Eight now beside him he soon pulled him closer. For a split second in his joy he'd forgotten Eight was even here with him.

The colour scheme matched the ones back in Inkopolis Square. An orange ring around the perimeter and the simple dark grating Three was all too familiar with.

Three was now talking to Eight rapidly - words lengthy and not making the smallest sense to the Octoling - who was all the while standing there confused. All Three needed to see was a lack of objection or fear on Eight's face, conveying that he hadn't gone through there himself and arrived somewhere dangerous. But for Eight, he couldn't understand. What was so exciting about a grated-off circle on the ground?

Stepping away from his friend and directly atop the covered hole, Agent 3 spoke additional words, these ones slower and better understandable, but with his eagerness still fully hearable.

"Okay, okay. I'll go through first, alright? Just follow after me. Again, this should take us right back home!"

But woah, hang on a moment. This was all happening far too quick for Eight's liking.

Three saw the concern forming on Eight's face but didn't want to waste time talking it down right now. This would be perfect for getting Eight to safety, and it wasn't like he couldn't return back just as easily.

"Don't sweat it, Eight. Hey - I'll tell you what. I'll go through and come straight back if I don't see you follow. Then you'll know it's safe."

But safety wasn't the issue Agent 8 was facing. It was not knowing what the thing below Three actually was. And he wanted to slow him down for an explanation.

Yet before he could think of a single word to object for a moment, vocalise the word "define" that his mind was frantically searching for - the squid was out of here.

Giving a brief thumbs up, he morphed into squid form, slipping through the grating-

🌀

-and out the other side.

\- - - - -

Feeling rushing cool air was nothing out of the ordinary when travelling at such high speeds through any manhole, however feeling it continue once appearing out the other side most certainly was.

_**SMACK!** _

As well as smacking into concrete.

"Fuck." Three hissed, ignoring the pain while forcing himself up from the ground with speed, nothing else on his mind except the insane desire of taking a look aro-

Inkopolis.

He was in Inkopolis.

...

...Except it was empty.

A stream of thoughts flooded his mind, whether this was real or another facade being the most prominent - but all of them squashed to nothing when a bigger one arrived.

He'd fallen, hadn't he?

Taking a look upwards...

"Oh shit. Oh, fucking, shit."

Travelling backwards to Eight wasn't going to be possible.


	7. Something that keeps me going

Oh God I'm such an idiot.

Please come on through, Eight. I'll catch you. I promise.

...

C'mon, please.

...

Please.

...

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I didn't even know one-way manholes existed. Or could be attached upside-down. How's that even work? That doesn't make sense. What did I just travel through? The fucking wall? How's the ink remainder not dripping out? Anti-gravity? What the fuck IS this?

I don't want this anymore. I thought I was handling it but I'm not. Where even am I? I know it isn't real Inkopolis, but WHERE in the world is it actually? Can anyone find me here? Does this place really even exist? This can't be real. Not even Pearl could afford a fucking clone of the city.

This is so abnormal. I feel so insignificant and out of place standing alone with an empty shell of the city around me. How a-

Oh wait, above that manhole - that object! UFO looking thing. That's, that's - I stood on that during our fight, didn't I? Lobbed specials down until he splat bomb'd my face in. That's it! That's the one for sure. Just floating right in the middle above me here.

It had a respawn pad in the middle, didn't it? I can't see it from here. Damn. Fuck! That'd be perfect. I'd be able to heal Eight completely in seconds with that. Hell, even better - I'd be able to set my ink colour to his right afterwards too. Shit, that really would be perfect! We could actually USE our weapons then for travel, safely. Cover ground twice as fast while protecting each other. Like a proper team. Let me explain to hi-

-Oh. Oh, right. He's - yeah.

...

...Why hasn't Eight followed me...? He... he trusted me enough, didn't he...? Oh, no, no. Don't say something's gotten him or something. Fuck, what's he gonna do? What's he going to do? He'll be alright, won't he? Just... travelling back to where we were before? He knows where it is, it wasn't far. He was walking okay. He can make it there.

Please stay okay, Eight. Fuck. How did I forget just then? This is my fucking fault. I just acted on excitement without even considering his input. And I've spent so little time with him so far as well. We haven't even DONE anything. We're both stuck here and have barely done a thing together. I haven't told him who we were, where we used to be, what we're working towards. And now we're separated. I've gone and left him all alone.

I just want to talk to you again, Eight. I don't want to be here. It doesn't matter to me now, returning home. I need to know you're safe. That's more important. We can be lost together for a while if we're together and you're safe. We had more than enough supplies. You were following me just because I wanted you too, I know you wouldn't be object against something simpler.

FUCK. Why'd I rush this so hard?

Just... just stay okay. I'll find you somehow.

Oh, and you're a fucking moron, Three. Just a reminder to yourself.

\- - - - -

This place is so weird.

Nothing's functional. None of the shop doors open, I can't go into the lobby, Grizzco's permanently closed. Even the hidden entrance to the metro is clumsily walled off.

I recognize that construction at the back. The real square looked just like that the day we all migrated from the old plaza. Three years ago, wasn't it? This place is like frozen in time.

Nobody's here, either. And nobody was back where we were before. At least Eight won't have any dangerous people to worry about. He's got his E-Liter back now too, hasn't he? Or at least I hope he took it. ...You know, something tells me his skills with it might not be missing from his mind.

There is a manhole though. Another normal looking one. The one I thought I'd originally pop out from, that back in the real world, that female squid had inspected one day and unsuspectingly become Agent 4. A replacement Agent of me. Just because I was busy. Thanks, Marie.

I ain't touching it though.

The yellow construction debris was easy enough to climb over. I'd jumped the thing easily like I'd done for fun when I was Eight's age. But here's what's even weirder about this place. Everywhere out here is like... unfocused. I dunno, it's just like, low 'quality'. I'm actually struggling to describe it, really.

It looks bad. Like bad video game graphics or something. The further out I get from the square, the blockier and worse looking everything gets. The ground's getting flatter and the details are getting lesser. I'm starting to struggle to recognize what some of these things are even meant to represent anymore. Having to watch just where I step.

I can't even see a texture to the concrete below me now. This place isn't real, that's for damn sure. I'm wondering, now - is this attached to the old location I was at? Under the same 'dome' or whatever it was? If I just walked straight for enough time, would I come across something new similar to it, or that exact same place itself? Or what about walking far back IN there? Would the world start looking all fucked up like this, too?

I can't be doing that here though. I need to stay somewhere close to that manhole. If Eight comes through it BOY he'll be overwhelmed. I've been thinking about it, though. That wouldn't be so hot. There's a substantial fall out of there; I know that first-hand. I shook it off like nothing but I feel like it would be rougher for him.

Anyway I've been walking to something here. Making my way to something I'd recognize. I'd considered the old plaza until changing to this instead. And thanks to everywhere else looking the same, I can easily spot it coming up in the distance.

It's my old apartment building.

And only one part of it looks remotely detailed.

\- - - - -

Well... I'm home.

Kinda, home. If everything else wasn't such a dead giveaway the sight of my outdated console sure confirmed the time period mismatch I was in. (You know, honestly, the previous model wasn't THAT bad like everyone else always said.) There's my old clothes, here... my classic Squid Sisters posters, there... my old desk before I put a hole through it with the grip of my controller... everything from almost exactly three years ago.

No power to anything though. Should have been evident, really. I've yet to see any form of Zapfish swimming around.

It's so creepy looking outside again from within here. If I only paid attention to everything here I could forget that I was stranded by myself in this counterfeit city.

I'm starting to think this world is being designed around me. Actively generated from my own thoughts somehow. Obviously not enough to deceive me into believing this is true reality but with the kind of things that are existing here relatively correctly. Everything I've seen detailed I could already mentally detail myself, down to the miniscule details, and everything missing I'm unsure in what specifically resides there.

Nobody at Squidbeak knows my house like this. Unless someone'd like, replicated the entire town down to every atom digitally back then. But if that was the case wouldn't everywhere else be in detail as well? As well as that, would they have really put this in this place to begin with? My own home? In a trial where me and Eight are meant to meet somewhere unrecognizable to everyone on the planet? Who could've done it back then anyway? Octo-brain Marina would've been too young back there.

...You know what? Whatever. I keep thinking about that stuff and it isn't getting me anywhere. I don't know what I'm doing here anyway. I walked over here to see if my place existed and yeah, it does I guess. But it isn't helping me in any single way.

This is all going so fast. But at the same time it isn't at all. My time here as a whole hasn't ticked over two days yet so many new findings have popped up. Nothing is staying simple. Every few hours there's some new bizarre experience unlike everything else that I can't predict or plan for. It seems like it's taken so much for me to get to this point when in actuality all I've done is walked in the snow, carried Agent 8 and wrapped him up, talked to him a little, gone to sleep once and gone through a manhole.

There's just no pause to what's going on. No breaks. No point in analysing anything when the next discovery invalidates your previous analysis.

A simple task: Befriend the other without your memories. To this.

...Whatever.

...

Ugh, look.

Just please give me Eight back.

\- - - - -

Maybe this was another mistake.

I've waited here for hours now. Checked out everywhere possibly nearby. And aside from the darkness covering the square, what's happened?

 **Fuck. All.** Eight isn't here and nothing else has changed.

Both manholes are still in sight, being the mysterious one I came out of and the recognizable one on the left. You may be surprised by this, but I still haven't touched it.

But as I'd said before, maybe that's been a mistake.

It's getting dark, now. Really dark. There's no lights anywhere and I feel like it'll be pitch black pretty soon. That's important because it means time has passed. Lots of it.

Which means there's probably been another bout of unnatural weather back with Eight - who, in case you need this repeated, has officially still NOT passed through the manhole. He's nowhere here, believe me. You might've think I could have missed him while being in my home but trust me I've looked everywhere. It doesn't take long to check two simple zones and wouldn't be hard to spot bright pink in an otherwise sea of gray.

And I don't understand. I touched on this earlier but I'm really struggling to comprehend why now. I think it's impossible to fail to travel through a manhole once you've entered, even if you tried. And entering it is obviously a breeze. So has he really encountered something horrible? No - there was nothing back there. I'm just thinking of the worst.

So, what about, thinking of the... better? What if he got 'saved' and taken out of here for good, then what? That'd be, uh, okay, I guess... even if he'd be temporarily terrified by the 'strangers' before they returned his memory... he'd at least be safe.

But, still... what about me?

Ah, it's seriously getting dark now. I'm gonna get lost if I don't make a move soon. Maybe I'll chance the manhole tomorrow if he still doesn't show up. Now what direction was it back to my home, again? On the path surrounded by the tall gray blurry boxes or the small semi-darker ones?

Let me tell you, when I make it back home, I ain't leaving Inkopolis for a looong time.

\- - - - -

Agent 3 decided to check up on his Octoling friend this night. Especially as he didn't have that opportunity open for taking last time.

"All good, Eight?" He'd inquired upon arrival to his bed.

"Yes. Bed, good."

"Great, I'm gl-"

"Eight, ..." Agent 8 couldn't seem to find any applicable words to finish that sentence. But his appearance managed to convey this for him anyway. Immediately concerned, Three's mouth moved borderline reflexively as he placed one of his hands on the covers.

"Something wrong? Are you cold?" Upon asking said question he'd recalled his funny method of teaching the word by blowing cool air onto Eight. He got a head shake in response, so moved along to his injury.

"Pain?"

Another shake. Funny. He hadn't actually taught him that word yet...

"Eye..." Eight offered, tracing downwards to his cheek to offer more information. "...Mmm... apple?"

"Crying." Three defined back, displaying the exact same motion in addition to an overdramatic sad face to confirm it. Eight's choice of "Apple" was kinda amusing, stemming from his only knowledge of a named liquid thus far having been simple apple juice. Three was sure he'd covered 'crying' earlier though; Eight must have simply forgotten amongst all the other emotions he'd also covered.

"Sad." Eight told. "Eight, sad."

"What's the matter? Are-" Three caught himself early and reconstructed his reply. "Sad, not good. Bad. Three... help Eight... happy. Yes?" He hoped that would work. With Eight's face lighting up, it seemed to be the case. Well... that was easy. Three was glad he'd skipped on teaching manners. He knew what word Eight would be repeating if he knew it himself.

"Yes!" Eight responded with much enthusiasm, not that it was required after showing such a happy expression. Three might have thought it was a little bit cute. If not... a bit unusual?

"So...?"

"Eight, sleep, here. No. Us, sleep, here. Yes!" Three'd seen that coming after the first half, and held back a laugh as Eight pointed directly down with each 'here'. As if he wouldn't know where the bed right in front of him was!

"Yeah? That'd make you happy?" Agent 3 certainly wouldn't mind fulfilling such a request, but couldn't help but feel like he wasn't really talking to Agent 8. Wasn't he scared of him just yesterday? And, you know, like; TIMID? This was all a bit sudden...

"Three sleep here, Eight happy." Well alright then.

"You know, if I didn't already know how awesome you are from our previous adventures, I'd probably disagree with this. Or drag it out as if I didn't understand, just to annoy you. And if you knew the implications from our culture you wouldn't even dare to request that so soon. But luckily for you, we're not in that make belief scenario, are we?"

Eight had tilted his head, smile long gone from his face. It seemed he took it as being scolded.

Three acted to quickly change that, hopping in under the covers on the opposite side. Weird - he hadn't remembered cleaning this bed yet but it was clean. That was handy.

"Happy, Eight?"

"...Yes?" He replied, puzzled to what had just taken place. Three sure had said a lot instead of a simple yes, considering he was now lying beside Eight. Eight didn't understand why, but whatever, it didn't matter now!

He did lie motionless now though, and continued doing so until Three picked up on it. Maybe he'd made an error by saying that long string of dialogue before, it was probably a bit early for sarcasm or witty jokes. He never meant to scare Eight with that.

"Relax, Eight. It's fine." Three spoke quietly, taking hold of a hand with his own and squeezing it gently. He suddenly remembered this was Agent 8 he was with another time over, and just how different he used to be. It gave him a new idea instead of just sleeping. He'd never get to have this possibility back there.

After a moment, he felt Eight similarly squeeze back.

"Happy. Hand hot, Three."

"Oh, yeah? Only my hand?" Three responded playfully, shifting closer to Eight until their shoulders were just about touching, close enough for their own body heat to be felt by the other.

"Three... hot?"

Agent 3 squeezed his eyes together hard for a few seconds in silence. He supposed he should've seen that one coming. Shockingly, he bottled the full laugh, exhaled and swiftly moved on before making a big deal out of it.

"Eheh, yeah... Anyway-" He started, letting go of Eight's hand and looping it around his frame, being cautious of course, and squeezing him against himself lightly. Huh, strange... Eight's wound seemed to no longer be an issue for either of them.

"Is Eight happy? Or is Eight sad?"

Agent 8 took a moment to settle into this new foreign contact, but once again (with Three's aided guiding) repeated the same motion back. ...With no yelps or difficulty to go with it. After taking in the feeling, he soon had his answer.

"Eight happy happy! Three happy?"

Three didn't respond, instead deciding on making their close contact even further intimate. It was a risky move but he made it effortlessly, feeling an unusual aura of confidence stronger than his usual.

Turning himself slightly and carefully applying more force to Eight, he raised him to his side and embraced him fully, evolving their slight squeeze into a proper cuddle. Eight had let out a kind of squeak sound which almost had Three lock up his movements, but he was sure he didn't touch the damaged part of his body directly or cause him other major discomfort.

What followed was a short time of awkward, still silence, and Three begun to wonder if he'd taken things too far too suddenly. But just before he pulled away, Eight appeared to relax into Three, a soft pleased sound escaping his lips as he did so.

"...You okay, Eight?" Three whispered. "I can stop if you like, honest."

Three felt a squeeze in response, just barely making out the whisper that went with it.

"Happy, happy, happy, Three."

The older Agent smiled to himself. He ought to teach him the definition of 'very'. What a perfect momen- eh?

Hold up a moment. Apologies, I need to pause this cute scene. Why's it getting so bright all of a sudden? Is there a light being shone in the window?

It's still getting brighter. It might be a flashlight! Has someone from the Squidbeak Splatoon arrived to pick them both up? Oh, thank God! Maybe they should get out of bed together first though. Someone might get the wrong idea.

Acknowledging Eight with the same alert expression on his own face, Agent 3 lifted himself out of the bed- no he didn't.

Huh?

Sorry - Acknowledging Eight with the same alert expression on his own face, Agent 3 lifted himself- hmm, no. He didn't. He didn't lift himself at all.

That's weird. Why wouldn't he get up?

Highly confused and panicking slightly, he looked to Eight a second ti- ah no, no nooo. He didn't do that either, because Agent 8 wasn't there anymore.

And now it's getting like, really bright. Just white everywhere. You can't see anything in this.

Agent 3's getting covered in sweat. It's just appearing around him insanely fast. He feels cold now, too. How's that work?

He wanted to cry. What was happening? Where was Eight? Who was this person outside? Why co-

. . . . .

What the hell? Hello? Where...?

Wha- Get these bed covers off me, now. Ugh, I feel awful. I'm drenched in sweat.

Eight. Where's Agent 8? Wait, these bed cover patterns...? And - isn't this my room? Uhh? Woah woah wait, I'm back here? There's no trial? WHAT? Me and Eight are in Inkopolis? Are you really telling me... this entire thing was all a dr-

...Wait.

Oh yeah. It's my room, but - yeah. Fake world and all that. The - manhole transportation, I'm still IN the botched trial. Right.

...Fuck. Well fuck you, brain. What an asshole. _...But I'll still count that as a dream over a nightmare._

I'm getting changed out of this shit immediately. What's the time right now? Somewhere during the day? I don't even feel like I've slept an hour.

Whatever, whatever. I need to search for Eight, he might've came through here in the night. Now where's my original small-sized Octo Tee...

\- - - - -

So it's bright out now, and the upside-down manhole's gone. As well as the UFO thing it was attached to.

And all I'm thinking is just, shit. Don't tell me Eight went through and got taken somewhere different.

The one by Sheldon's store is still here though. Do I wait, or do I go? Let me ask you, actually. After my dream last night, did I, Agent 3, take even a single minute to re-evaluate this option with clearer thought or did I instead dive down it immediately, praying it would return to me Agent 8?

Yeah, that one was easy for you.

By the way, I've came up with a name for this place. Just a short something, because Fake-opolis wasn't cutting it for me.

Think I'll go with **Inkaline**.

🌀


	8. I don't know what it is

What...?

He just...? Um?

...Uhm?

He... swam into it? How did he do that? That was really, really, r e a l l y strange... but he made it look so normal. Weird.

...

...So, okay, then.

...

Umm...

I don't think he's coming back.

Am I meant to do that as well? I don't know how to do that. I didn't know he could do that, morph into such a small form and pass through semi-solid objects. What a useful talent to have. Is that why he looked a little bit different than me? I highly doubt I'm capable of something like that. I don't feel like I could do anything akin to that at all. I feel 100% like a person!

I can't stop replaying that over to myself. So strange. From a tall normal person with funny eyes and pointy ears to... a really small squid figure.

Funny eyes... blue squid. Pointy ears... tiny aquatic creature.

I think I'll stop that now.

What am I doing here now, though? He's no longer here. He did say 'Follow' to me before... and a lot of other words, too. I followed up to here, but I can't follow anymore. Did he really think I could do that too? He'd transformed so smoothly like it was nothing.

I suppose I'll just... wait here, then.

Yes. I will wait here, where I was left. For 'Three'.

...

That weapon over there does look really interesting though.

\- - - - -

Oh look - that's my old blood on the end! ...Yes, that's right. Umm...

Eww, actually. I won't touch that bit... ooh, my thoughts are getting so weird now! Sometimes I'm using Three's language in my head! Wait, is that normal? I don't really know.

As for this - it's meant to be held up here, correct? Oh wow, this is kinda heavy! Wait no, maybe I'm holding this up a little too high.

And then, you're meant to look through here... yes, that's seeming right... take hold of the trig-

_**Donk.** _

_Eek!_

...Oh, that scared me! It was just my ink flowing into it, wasn't it? That felt so weird!

Oh, wow. Did it really store up that much so quick? I only held it for a split second. Look at all this mess I've made.

...

How interesting. Let's do it again!

\- - - - -

I enjoyed having a play with that weapon. What fascinating mechanisms! All intertwined so perfectly to result in a powerful blast with huge range. Who came up with such an idea? ...Um, actually... why would you need such a dangerous tool with these features...? The amount of ink this expels really is overkill... why was I given this before?

Well, I'm not having fun with it anymore. I'm too preoccupied feeling nervous now. I want Three to come back and tell me what to do.

He... knew I was joking before, didn't he? When I'd pretended a demand for him to pick it up. I don't want to give him orders, I don't know what I'm doing. I want to follow his. He knows what he's doing.

Nothing's going on here. I'm getting hungry. I saw food back before... should I go there again? But it isn't mine! It's his! I shouldn't take his belongings. What if he found out? He'd think I was a thief! Would he leave me?

NO! No. I'm not a thief. I wouldn't want my things being taken so I shouldn't take his.

...

...He didn't mind giving me a drink before, though...

...

...Maybe just a little something.

\- - - - -

That powder's getting everywhere again. The really cold stuff. It's not really powder though because it turns into liquid when it touches me. Hard liquid crystals. That's what it is. It's not very bright out here anymore either, but that part isn't as exciting.

I'm back in his home again now, and I keep opening his big door to check in the distance but still haven't seen him return yet.

He... he will return soon, won't he? Or is he... gone, now? Forever? I thought he might of cared about me a little, but... maybe he was just helping me thinking I could be useful later. ...And no longer needs me for anything. I'm... grateful for him saving me, I guess... I really didn't want him to leave though. Really didn't. Let me check again...

Ah! It's getting windy. I don't have the strength like him, if it gets as bad as before and I open this... okay, it's closed now. I think it'd be best to wait until tomorrow before opening that again.

...Sooo... I'm just sitting on this bed now. I'm not really sure what else I should be doing. He left all these things here. So many different tools. Are these hard to come by or really common? He seemed fine to just head out leaving them all here, maybe they aren't worth much. Sure is a lot, though...

I did eat some pale yellow looking twirls of his. Only a few! I was getting really hungry, and there were hundreds in the little package. All these other items look confusing to eat.

I didn't like them though. They were really crunchy and tasteless. I'll pass on them for now.

\- - - - -

...

I can only JUST hear those crystals colliding with that see-through square from here.

...

This room's really so dark at night.

...

I wonder if that transformation thingy Three did was painful.

...

I wonder where Three is now.

...

I wonder how I got here.

...

Getting into this bed really hurt.

...

I hope I wasn't meant to re-wrap up myself like he did for me before.

...

I feel okay now at least. And this bed is really soft, t-

Wait a minute.

Wasn't I standing right over that hole in the ground when first I got here?

...

Oh. Maybe I can actually use it then, too. That's crazy! I can transform too? I know I can generate ink, and he swam through ink too. Oh! Why didn't I piece that together back there? All I need to do now is work out how to do it!

Now I'm curious. Did I travel from wherever it leads before? I should be able to think about what was in there if so. But I can't.

But then again, I can't think of anything properly still. So even if I had travelled through it wouldn't make a difference.

Oh, I wish he was here again... he was teaching me so much. Helping me so much.

I'd love to blast him with my charger.

But it's okay! I can find him again. Tomorrow, I will open the door, travel to the circle, and find out how to trav-

...

...? ...???

...W? What? What did I just think of doing?

Oh... oh no? Um, what? Why did I just think of that? I-I - N-No! I don't want to do that! Not at all! What just made me think that? Why would I...? The thought was so c l e a r, too - I'd never want to hurt him! He saved my life!

...

Am I...? A dangerous person to him?

...Uh oh. Uh oh. What's this... Feeling...?

Oh, oh, oh...

Um, Th, Three...

...M-Maybe... D-DON'T come back-


	9. I don't know what gives me strength

If you were to ask Agent 3 for one location in where he thought he'd end up after slipping past the grating and swimming full speed, the response you'd most likely receive would be Tentakeel Outpost. After all, that was where the manhole would send you in the real world. But even while fully knowing this and giving such a response, Three still wouldn't actually believe the words he'd say.

The real place he thought he'd end up was just... anywhere that wasn't normal. With how odd the 'Inkaline' world had been with its detail-less features, there wasn't really anything to work with in making an educated guess. There was no manhole leading to Eight's location in Inkopolis in the real world because it was one-way. Not that there were ANY upside-down manholes there - just another thing that couldn't be expected from this place.

All of that was a lie though. Because squids travelling at high speeds through pressured ink can't speak very clearly. You'd get back a bunch of blabber.

...He just wanted to find Eight.

🌀

With the immediate sight of white and feel of frost, Three was astonished to pick up a recognizable structure right in the middle of his vision. There was no way. It couldn't be this simple.

The only caveat going alongside this was how he was looking at it from the top. And feeling wind below himself. Not again...

**_Spl-fff._ **

Oh, that was handy. Maybe he'd be willing to shift his stance slightly upwards on the scale of how much he disliked snow.

\- - - - -

After a loud series of sudden knocks on hardwood, a voice broke through the whistling wind just outside of Eight's whereabouts.

"Agent 8, are you here? It's me, Agent 3!"

There was no reason Three couldn't simply open the door but he felt it proper to at least announce who it was first. This was it for sure, the exact same building they'd both been in a day ago. The same rounded platform had dropped him from midway in the sky only meters away from the door, upside-down manhole attached to the underside like before. That was worth remembering to his brain - as the stationary manhole where Eight had first been was fairly close by but still a noticeable distance from here. That platform could definitely move.

In a way he wanted to study it closer. Try and pick out any details that could make him believe it was the very same one-way system that'd dropped him down in Inkaline. The freezing atmosphere and concern for his friend majorly outweighed this want though. It was a good question though - if it was truly the same one, that meant it'd have flown all the way to here - meaning the two places were actually connected and getting between them was potentially walkable.

Getting back to much more essential matters, there'd been no response from his knocks at the door so Agent 3 took it upon himself to let himself in, before stopping momentarily to look in every which direction. It was freezing cold out here. If Eight was STILL by the other manhole...

Shaking his head, Three went back to letting himself in and pulled the handle down hard, keeping hold with force to counteract the door most likely swinging inwards. His plan was to quickly check around for Eight here, and grab his snow-wear to go back out if he was nowhere to be found.

He really, really hoped he would find him here.

Stepping inside revealed that his hope had come true; pointed ears picking up on... familiar crying on his left. That wasn't so good, even though it also kinda was. There wasn't anywhere else here with him... right? For their own sake, with the determination currently flowing through Agent 3 leading him towards comforting Eight, let's just finish by saying there'd better not be.

This was it, that was Eight. At last, Three'd found him. He was crying much louder than he'd realised, body rattling while curled up on his own bed, but he was here. Here and alive. Three wouldn't be leaving him again.

"Eight! Eight, Eight - it's Three! What's- it's - it's me, Eight!"

Stumbling over his own words as he hurried to his best friend, Three was subconsciously brainstorming away on just what was causing Eight to feel this way. What an awful sight. Had he really missed him enough to shake like that?

Agent 8 hadn't reacted to anything. Not even the loud running footsteps had caught his attention. _Holy fuck_ , Three thought. _Just how long has he been like this?_

Agent 3 placing a single hand on Eight's forearm gained a response the instant the contact feeling registered within him. With a hard body-wide convulsion his crying paused with a high-pitched inhale, the younger Agent immediately raising his head to look at who had touched him. In that small point of time where he focused on those familiar eyes, he couldn't imagine any other scenario that could run so many clashing emotions inside of himself.

Three had never seen a more upset expression in his life. He started talking right away.

"It's just me, Eight! It's Three! I'm here with you now. Just, just tell me what's wrong and I can h-"

"NO! NO, NO, NO!"

The absolute horror Three felt spark in his core was another addition to things he had never previously experienced.

The volume Eight had screamed those words was yet another.

Completed by the horrible seconds of silence that followed. It wasn't true silence; walls echoing and bouncing the Octoling's accent multiple times as it faded.

And before it was had became truly silent he'd already spoken further.

"NO, Three. No. No No. Out - Three out. No here, no. No! No." Agent 8 choked each later word out with a trembling mouth, finding extreme difficulty forming them through his body's desire to cry.

Agent 3 didn't know what to think. Just, WHAT had happened here to him? What the hell was going on??

He was moving in on him though, body automatically preparing for a controlled impact. A sight of Eight's side had done it.

He was bleeding again. Not heavily, but he was. And his bandages were ruffled from the top, scratched with some of them slightly ripped.

No. No. That was something he didn't need to see right now.

Please. Don't. Say. That's. Self. Inflicted.

\- - - - -

"Threeee, nooo-"

"Shh, Eight. I've got you."

"You - no - no, mmMMH... out..."

"I've got you, Eight."

"You... aaAGH, nooo! Noo!"

"I'm not letting you go, Agent 8."

Three had hugged him again. Just like when they'd first laid eyes on one another. It wasn't the same this time however, with Three feeling a total of zero voices in his head telling him to stop. Ohh, nono. He wasn't letting go anytime soon. Truth be told, he was squeezing Eight even harder than before, not even able to feel him fighting back through the sheer strength of his own force. There wasn't the slightest chance of getting him to quit early this time.

Eight was still talking to him, a constant denial that didn't appear to be stopping. But it didn't bother Three. His hold was unfaltering, and replies always reassuring. There were strange noises within Eight's words though. At first Three'd thought they were pure annoyance, deriving from his difficulty in speaking coherently, but now he wasn't sure if it was truly unintentional. He'd seen that one time before, hadn't he...?

It was scary, because he wouldn't know how to fix that. It's a lot easier to remove mind controlling goop when it's blatantly attached to the outside of you.

The other thing scaring him was what Eight was still doing. His denial. It was either the thing inside of himself talking as a threat, or him saying it to try and protect Three from what his body was struggling to fight back. That foreign, evil control.

Both were equally bad. But the latter was more sad.

"Th... Thr... eeee..."

"Eight, you- you're my best friend. Right now, and back home. I- I know I don't always show it, but I care for you. My God do I care for you. You wouldn't actually believe just how much it hurts me to see you like this."

Tears were beginning to stream down Agent 3's face. But it didn't stop him.

"You- you're such a positive person. You're so kind to me. You... ahhg, I can't even say everything. You... for YOU to be going through this, after so much... time after time again... I can't be having it. I can't be seeing you like this anymore. It's not fair for you."

Agent 8 had stopped talking, attentively listening to words he couldn't understand. But man were they soothing. It was taking him back to when Three had been cleaning him up close similar to this before.

"We're not doing this anymore, okay? I'll let you go and we'll get through this together. I know what you're dealing with right now. You probably don't think I do, but I'm actually the only other person who knows what that feeling inside you is like. And... an..."

There was a pause, as Three's own emotions overtook him stronger. Even still, he pursued on through them.

"Ah, and... y-you know JUST WHO sss-aved me, b-back before...?"

Agent 3 was crying hard, now. Harder than Eight, in fact, who's own tears were finally beginning to slow.

The final word of 'you' was never voiced aloud, or at least not loud enough for Eight's round ears to hear it. Agent 8 didn't know what to think now. He never expected to see his friend like this.

Or be the one to have caused it.

\- - - - -

"Follow, Eight."

Agent 8 said nothing.

A tight hold clasped around Eight's hand, Agent 3 was leading him once more to the manhole they were both familiar with. He'd dressed him in his loaned winter gear, every single piece being grossly oversized for him, but it was irrelevant to Three as long as he was warm. Three'd snapped that camcorder clean off as well, setting it on a nearby shelf before they'd set off. What use was it when it didn't function?

He was getting Eight out of here, right now. Getting him to his old Inkaline home.

Even if he had to force him.

Thankfully that wasn't currently the case, with Eight complying to everything he'd done since being relinked together, and I do mean everything. He'd let Three rub his tears away, dress him up in all this stuff, accepted the food given and allowed his hands to be held multiple times. (It turns out those yellow twirls need hot water to 'cook' first.)

Agent 8 didn't feel like he deserved any of it anymore. Nor that he really did in the first place, either. But especially not now.

Another thing Three had done was replaced his bandages, and he'd done so in a way much different than before by using almost twice the usual amount and making the loops extra tight around the top and bottom. Eight was surprised with just how much blood was on them, although he knew exactly why they looked like that. After losing partial control of his body and connecting it to the evil thought he'd had, Eight had gotten the idea of... 'weakening' himself so he wouldn't be able to go through with it as easily.

He knew he was in trouble for that. Agent 3 had spent an unnatural amount of time heavily studying his previous wrapping before undoing it, in addition to afterwards by itself fully over a second time. He'd definitely caught him, but had yet to scold him for it.

The final oddity in this short travel they were just about finished up with was the absence of Eight carrying any weapon, solely due to the reaction he'd shown towards going near it back in the 'bunker' before they'd left. Immediately after seeing it Three had asked no questions and allowed him to leave it there, never bringing it up again. Just like he'd done for the bandages, actually.

"Okay, here we are." Three spoke plainly, trying to keep the coldness free from his voice. That was the first thing either of them had said for minutes. It was getting to the start of evening now, snow not currently falling but he doubted that would last for long. He'd get this over with quickly and sleep back in his home.

Letting go of Eight's hand, he kicked away the snow topping the manhole and looked over at Eight.

"Right, Eight. Through you go."

Eight looked at him, mouth slightly ajar. He didn't want to displease his friend/savour/teacher, but truly didn't know how to proceed with this one.

Agent 3 wasted no time.

Stepping backwards away from the hole, he morphed to squid form a couple times over, making it very clear what he was after from the other. Once back in humanoid form the third time, he pointed to the manhole ahead of himself.

Agent 8 shook his head.

Three smirked. He wasn't getting out of it that easily.

There was a time during his early school days that Three had been the target for a few different bullies. Being someone that kept to himself made him quite an easy choice, not having the luxury of multiple friends around him at all times. Of course, after he'd had enough and started throwing hands, all of them seemed to lose interest in him.

He had learnt one specific trick from them though. Something they'd once done to him to cause his papers to become unreadable from his own ink splashes.

And he was about to do it to Eight.

Continuing his smile, he came on back over to the Octoling and took hold of his hand. With a swap from his other one happening right afterwards, Eight suddenly found himself holding Three's Splattershot.

Instinct took hold and he tried to drop the weapon but Three held it firm in his hands, refusing to allow it. As Eight began to panic, heartbeats increasing in speed, Three casually moved behind him and paused, outstretching both of their arms forward to hold the weapon further away. After a number of seconds of this and nothing else, Eight felt himself calming. He did NOT want a weapon in his hands right now, ESPECIALLY with Agent 3 in front of him.

Satisfied with Eight cooling down, Three loosened the tightness of his hold until it was completely gone - pleased to see Eight keeping a steady hold on his own. Moving his right hand's cold finger over Eight's warmer own, he squeezed it back, pressing Agent 8's finger to the trigger and forcing the weapon to attract his ink.

_**PinkPinkPinkPinkPink...** _

And his ink was getting _everywhere_ , covering the surroundings ahead of the two without any kind of organization.

In just a few seconds there was enough for Three's liking, a sizeable puddle where multiple shots had landed. He retracted his Splattershot from Eight's hand, placing it straight back into his holster with some praise.

"Great job, Eight!"

Said person nodded slowly, although he hadn't any clue as to what the purpose of that was. Turning around to look at Three, he soon realised he couldn't see him. Just after that, he felt a tightness building between both sides of his lower body.

Looking down in shock, he saw Agent 3, pressing hard with each hand towards one another. REALLY pressing hard. It was actually starting to hurt.

"Umm... Three?" He squeaked out, unsure on what this was doing. One side in particular was hurting much more rapidly, torn skin fighting back against being pulled directly inwards.

"Ah - ahh, Three, no." He'd spoken, hadn't he? Was that all Three wanted? Why wasn't he stopping now?

In an effort to cease his action Eight tried walking, jumping, and even pushing Three directly, but none of the actions made a dent in slowing him down. Already his side was flaming...

"Th-Three, no no, o-okay?"

Out of nowhere, Agent 8 had a new feeling appear at the very middle of his stomach. But he thought wrong in actuality, for it was his very own ink sac Three was hitting. Sides caving inwards slightly further, he felt the pressure of Three's own fingers actually within the outskirts of the organ, and right at it happened... his body force flicked the switch to protect him.

About to yell from the sensation, Agent 8 felt himself fall-

_**Plonk.** _

-And was now looking up to the sky from the ground.

As it happened, Agent 3 was in motion. Immediately he beelined for the manhole and called Eight repeatedly, physically jumping up and down like a maniac to get his attention. Some ink stuck to him was causing a painful ripple but that was the last of his priorities. If anything it just added to the stand-out appearance.

With the sight of Eight swimming towards him, he took off down the grating.

After all - he'd already promised Eight he'd catch him.


	10. I don't know what pushes me forth

Arriving at Agent 3's false apartment, the first thing collectively on the pair's mind was rest. Both of them were more than exhausted mentally from their prior separation, not without the fact that neither had slept properly on their own, and Agent 8 didn't doubt Three would disregard his own comfort by lacking to provide him a place to sleep. That whole... episode... had been pretty draining for them too.

What Three had done before was a complete risk. He'd be the last person to know what parts of Inkling and Octoling anatomy matched up, or at least came close enough for things to be replicated successfully from one to the other. On the topic of replication, the area the two had been transported to was not identical to Three's last travel. He'd came out in Inkaline, just like before, however the previous time was directly in the centre of the square. Differentially NOT the outskirts of his own apartment.

It didn't matter. All he wanted to do was sleep now. His current task was complete, Eight was safe with him once more. But his mind did the opposite to his wishes; producing even more unanswerable thoughts than before their manhole journey.

Agent 8 wasn't saying anything. Three'd caught him (and landed a trace more graciously himself) successfully but there was still nothing coming forth from the Octoling's mouth. He didn't stop in awe to look at anything here, not questioning the alien looking environment once. He allowed Three to lead him onwards further, small nods in agreement to anything the squid would say - including the sentences which offered zero understandable information to him. He was going along with everything Three wanted just fine.

But he wasn't fine. Three didn't believe as such. Agent 3's thoughts had been continuously referencing back to his own dream during their short walk to here. Eight had been so affectionate there. So vocal. He knew it never really happened but that didn't mean it... couldn't. If he'd done a better job, maybe it would be happening right now.

He could imagine it happening. Eight gripping his hand back firmly the entire way here as opposed to his current weak hold back. Him being interested in everything that was new to him. Talking to him - starting with "Three", perhaps, followed by "Happy" after each response of acknowledgement back from the older Agent.

Their happiness could be truly mutual then. Even if Three's own sharing of feelings was so much less outspoken, the true feeling between them would still be the same.

Three needed a clear head to fix this. Eight wasn't going anywhere now, but his headache certainly was growing. He needed to handle this seriously, tomorrow. Rehearse a thousand times a concise strategy that made total sense. Not just wing another impulsive plan. But all in all, he hadn't done terrible, had he? He didn't feel like he'd failed so hard in his own heart. Maybe it was Eight who needed to appreciate him more...?

Ugh - he didn't know. Separating himself from his friend he went on ahead up to his door, halting before reaching out for the handle to turn back to his friend. There was the best ally in his life, the person he most cared for, right in the middle of his vision. Looking and feeling lost and confused yet again.

And this time, even less happier.

Three sighed at him without his own awareness. This was immensely irritating. He'd really tried his absolute best in making Eight feel safe but all that'd really happened looked to be the opposite. He'd thought he'd done well in getting him safe here, not wasting a second longer having him stuck in the dangerous atmosphere before, but taking a glance at Eight there... made him question his actions greatly.

Eight had never looked this hopeless back there, even when they were in much greater risk and vulnerability together. He'd gone through certain episodes for sure, but after his first one had settled, they'd always felt like a little team together. Even if he was afraid, he at least put a level of trust in Three. Back then he was HAPPY to cooperate with him.

And Agent 3 couldn't see it in him anymore. All he was doing now was following his orders indifferently.

"...This is it, Eight. ...Come inside."

\- - - - -

Having briefly shown Eight as much of his cloned home he felt was important, Three had presented him with a set of pyjamas he assumed would most fit him. These pyjamas were also known as the smallest pair for his 3 year younger self. It was still hard to fully comprehend how every single thing really was duplicated here. After doing so he'd motioned for the bathroom, making a very obvious overexaggerated scene of needing Eight to change AWAY from him, and got to work sorting out his old bed. Covers on one side and stacked pillows weren't going to work.

After hearing a funny metallic sound repeat though he flipped around to see Eight struggling to unzip each piece of his leather armour. Thinking back to his struggle on fitting the boots snugly when he had first recovered enough to move, Three felt slightly idiotic for not having anticipated this. It was a simple, fast procedure to loosen and Eight allowed everything as expected. Returning Three a quick nod as some kind of 'thanks', still lacking the small smile or words that to go with it, Eight went where he was told and began getting changed.

Three wondered whether he was doing that particular action out of typical embarrassment and decency or whether he was simply doing it as he'd requested so. He also wondered if they'd fit decently, but with Eight's snappy reappearance that was soon confirmed.

"Great." He commented, unsure of what else to say. He just wanted to rest. With the bed to his liking he climbed into his usual side but saw Eight simply standing there, obviously not putting together what Three had just prepared. Agent 3 felt himself about to explode.

He already knew this wasn't going to be simple. It was going to be one long drawn out annoyance after the other, just like every single other new thing he wanted Eight to just trust him on and not require so much reassuring hand-holding.

And of course, OF COURSE, he knew it wasn't Eight's fault. He wasn't blaming the Octoling at all. He knew he was timid in nature and lacked 99% of his memory. He knew he appeared like a complete stranger to him. It was just how it was with the situation they were in. If Three was in his shoes there was a chance he'd act almost exactly the same too.

But by the Great Zapfish, after going through these procedures hundreds of times, it was impossible to not be viewed at as anything but annoying to Three. He definitely didn't believe there was any chance Eight would be opposed to this idea once he understood it but he didn't want to have to explain such simple things anymore. Such little insignificant non-issues that Eight took caution to.

And he'd TRIED. He'd TRIED, SO, HARD to get him comfortable around him. And it hadn't been good enough.

He cared about Eight. He really did. But you add on lack of sleep, a pounding headache, his inner hotheaded nature, a never-ending stream of failures with Eight, a difficult task for him tomorrow and sky-high levels of uncertainly for his future as a whole?

It wasn't healthy.

"Come in, Eight. You're sleeping next to me tonight." Three blinked, suddenly. He realized how hard he said that to him and felt the familiar feeling in his body. Agent 8 wasn't someone that needed to see him snap. Or someone that would have an easy time recovering from him doing so.

Walking over somewhat cautiously, Eight made it to the opposite side but didn't climb in, making eye contact with Three instead. As Three had expected. The last thing he wanted was a big exchange to convince him. He didn't have the energy for that.

Sitting up slightly and reaching over, Three patted the mattress while keeping his look on the other, giving off a half-hearted friendly demeanour. Eight appeared nervous, almost like this was an important moment that he didn't want to screw up. Three didn't understand. But got annoyed.

It really was amazing how strong emotions could control the older Agent. Just hours ago he was bawling out to Eight telling him how much he meant to him, and now he was on the verge of boiling over the top with him.

"Here, Eight. It's okay."

Eight remained motionless.

"Please, not now... just, climb on in. It's fine."

...

_Sigh._

"It's a fuc- it's- it's a bed, Eight. Get. In. _Please_."

...

...Still no movement from the younger Octoling...

"I...! Alright look, I'll go to the couch to sleep if it makes you feel better. You can sleep in a bed just like before then, yeah? Alone like you're used to. Yeah, that's fine. I'm going right now Eight, no need to stop me. _'Sorry for the inconvenience', quiet-y. My bad._ ...Goodnight."

But as Three had rose to his peak, a grumble escaping his mouth as he held his aching head after having taken the piss of his friend's intuition somewhat, Eight shook his head and stuck his hand in Three's direction, looking to him for guidance.

There it was. There was the stupid part, to waste more of his time. It tipped Three's patience over the edge. He, just, wanted to, s-l-e-e-p.

With a stern tone, albeit also managing to retain a quietness from his panging tiredness, Three made his true annoyance known to the younger Agent.

"Look, Eight. I'm - I've had enough for today, now. You're making a big deal out of nothing like usual. It's just my fucking bed, and me in the other side of it. I don't want to clarify all this to you further right now, it's the same fucking thing like back there with different coloured sheets and me. Can you please just get in or tell me if you want to sleep alone? I'd be gone in ten seconds. No hard feelings. I'm so fucking happy to see you and know you're safe but fuck me if I have to deal with this right now. My head's killing me, and you've not been helping it. Can you just GET ON WITH IT for once and make a simple easy decision? And NOT have it take all day? No, no, of course you can't right? Because _you've been walking right beside me in fucking silence for HOURS **since the second I finally reached you and got you to safety**_ **. MAYBE A "THANKS, THREE", HUH?** "

...

Oh dear.

After a few seconds of nothing, Agent 8 retreated his hand and backed away a couple steps, face full of shock which rapidly turned to sadness. He said nothing at all, in the same way he hadn't since arriving here like Three had parroted, and turned to leave the room, arm shaking ever so slightly as he started to audibly sniff.

Agent 3 knew it'd happen. He knew the second he started talking that whatever his mind was going to have him say it was only going to result in that. And as his friend reacted, he instantly hated himself. There was no convincing himself he didn't care about the other against the stream of reminders of how good Eight was at heart and how much he liked the other Agent.

He'd screwed this now, royally. What a failure. Now for being too tired to handle around 5-10 minutes of explanation, he'd wasted the next 6-8 hours of his life as well. Because neither of them were going to sleep properly now.

It was only at that moment, though, that his eyes caught a breakthrough which took his attention away from wanting to punch himself in the face repeatedly. With Eight backed away and at a different angle from before, as well as him having since rose in preparation to get out of his own bed, that he was able to see his other hand for the first time clearly from his perspective.

Which, for not even a full second before he'd lowered it, he briefly caught Eight pointing it to his injury.

The absolute pang of immediate guilt that engulfed the whole of Agent 3 to his very core was indescribable.

"...Oh shit. Oh fuck. OH! Oh, Eight! Eight! S-Stop there, please. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Quick as a reflex the words left his mouth, a jolt of adrenaline springing him out of bed entirely. That certainly was one method of temporarily alleviating his tiredness. He was right beside the other Agent quicker than he knew possible.

"I didn't rea- I get it, I get it, I get it now, honest. Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry. I just- fuck. I'm sorry. I-I dunno what came over me then."

Eight turned back to face him once more, face painting an unreadable expression but the glistening of forming tears visible at the edges of both eyes. Three immediately hugged him. Face pushed against his own old clothing, he continued his apology.

"Your injury, I understand. I am SO sorry, Agent 8. I didn't see your other hand. I'm sorry. I am sorry."

Agent 8, certainly confused with what was happening and feeling many clashing emotions inside himself, settled on hugging him back. While not literally understanding Three's words as normal the whole act of him apologising was impossible to overlook.

"P... please forgive me, Eight...? Just... say something to me...? Anything..."

There was nothing back.

...No. That wasn't acceptable. This mistake was too big. He couldn't not fix this one. For what he just did and how he must feel, Eight might even... leave him in the night.

Three cut the hug short, proceeding to take hold of one of Eight's hands and gently pull it in his direction, mistakenly leading him to his own usual sleeping side. But he didn't care to correct it. This could _not_ happen.

"Your ah, I-I can guide you in here. I understand, you... you're right, you'd hurt yourself bending to get in. And I don't want that, never." Three explained, if not just looking for constant words to hopefully give an impression of reassurance. That'd worked before, hadn't it?

He let go of Eight's hand as he continued.

"This is just like the other bed. It's okay, it's okay - I'll lead you in gently like when I lowered you when you felt that pain spike back then, alright? You'll have nothing to worry about, I promise. I'll get you in safe."

Outstretching his arm exactly like before, Three hoped like hell Eight would accept it. He still hadn't spoken back to him.

Eight was rubbing both eyes, then looked down at Three arm. To the older Agent's gigantic relief, he did indeed decide to accept it.

Keeping his entire upper body upright and over-explaining everything he was doing while he did it, Three picked his whole upper weight up and slid him across so he was under his bed, allowing time for Eight to position his legs parallel. Finally, he was in there. Once completely down, Three placed both hands on the opposite sides of Eight's chest, pushing gently to lower him down fully exactly like before. Having done so, with no sounds of pain from the other, he quickly went around to the other side and got in carefully himself, spreading his weight broadly as to not cause a temporary decline in the mattress shape. He'd only just recalled how sweaty that side of the bed would be...

"Sorry again, Eight. I really am sorry for that. That... was horrible of me." Agent 3 couldn't remember the last time he'd apologised to someone so much. Especially while also seriously meaning it.

The two of them lied on their backs awkwardly for the moments that followed. After what has taken place the whole atmosphere of the room had turned incredibly uncomfortable. This was not what Three had in mind.

"...Okay, Three." Eight announced, finally saying something in this world for the first time.

Three knew Eight had lied to him. How could it be okay? He could feel the part of their bond he'd just obliterated in under a minute. He had gotten so angry from his emotional buildup that he'd disregarded just how fragile this was to Eight when he said all those words. He didn't mean them, or at least, not like that.

Three was all Agent 8 he had. It wasn't his fault he couldn't remember. Three'd reminded himself of that before, but now the sentence started playing over and over in his mind. He knew exactly who's fault THAT actually was. And who's fault THIS was just now, with his silly little temper. It's not Eight's fault. He doesn't deserve this. _He's just so scared of his life constantly and I just made it even worse for him. Why can't I make him happy for once?_

_Would... he have been better off without me returning?_

Agent 3 didn't care about sleeping anymore. His pounding headache and unfocused vision could stay for all he cared. Shuffling up closer to his nervous friend slightly, he reached down and took hold of his left hand, encasing it with both of his own. Agent 8 gasped very quietly at the sensation, hand twitching from the unexpectedness of it catching him off guard. Both reactions were just enough for Three to pick up on.

"Hey..."

With a little hesitation, Eight looked over to Three and moved to lean a little more on his side. His hearts were beating faster right now. So much had happened in a single minute and he had no idea what was really going on with this person beside him anymore.

"Want to... hug again?" Three asked, wisely avoiding the word 'cuddle' that Eight wouldn't understand.

Eight didn't answer back at first, instead deciding to stare right into Three for the time being. Agent 3 wondered what Eight found so captivating about his eyes. He did this kind of thing fairly frequently, the emotion he was feeling each time seeming to never lower his curiosity over them. Three said nothing more and looked straight back, focus repeatedly shifting from one of the Octoling's eyes to the over. He smiled and squeezed Eight's hand lightly, trying to come across as gentle and affectionate as possible.

Eventually, Eight wordlessly nodded back. Giving him no further instructions, Eight watched as Three removed his grip from his hand and carefully placed one arm around him, shuddering at the feeling of it sliding past his body. For some reason everything was feeling so much more pronounced than any time before in their relationship. In an effort to push what had taken place out of his mind he'd settled on it being simply due to his new attire.

Advancing in silence, Three took his other hand and lifted Eight a fraction to slide it under him, being extra courteous around his sensitive skin. He mentally reminded himself again over the fact that it was damaged once more, and wouldn't really be any further healed than when Eight had first mistakenly caused it. Oh, Agent 8... how could he do what he just did to him?

With both arms finally around his friend, Three gave one final smile to the younger Agent's nervous face as he pulled the both of them together, confidence dropping slightly as he immediately felt just how fast Eight's hearts were beating.

Some time passed without any further input from either individual. Eight didn't return the gesture and Three didn't do anything more. Occasionally, Three would feel Eight having a faint shivering motion. Three took it as fear.

'I've really fucked this.' Is all he believed. 'Eight isn't comfortable here. I should grow up and leave him to sleep in peace. Accept what I just did to him.'

The two lied these for some more time, neither wanting to move over the uncertainty of what the other would do.

This wasn't fixing what'd just took place in their relationship. It... wasn't going like his dream.

So Agent 3 went through with his mindset right away, retrieving his arms from Eight and sliding out of his side without second thought. Or word. Agent 8 watched, more confusing mounting on top of his prior overflooded capacity.

"...Three...?"

Agent 3 made it to his bedroom door and spoke with his back to Eight. He took a second to clear his throat, not wanting to get his words caught from his rising sadness.

"I'll... leave you alone, alright? I'll sleep in the other room and let you rest here. We can... talk more in the morning, if- ...if you want to stay."

Three could have said anything just then and Eight's immediate protest would have been just as fast. He didn't need any words to realise what Three was doing.

"No... no, Three, here - talk-"

"I can't, Eight. I'm sorry... Talk to me in the morning. I'm so fucking sorry, Eight."

And with that, Three pulled his door almost shut, leaving it slightly ajar and beelined for his couch, wanting to escape the quiet words he continued to hear as fast as possible. Vision blurring further with tears, he still managed to quickly realise he didn't have any covers on hand but didn't care. It's not like they'd matter. He knew he wasn't going to get any sleep with his brain refusing to shut up over what he'd just done anyway.

-/-

Eight, meanwhile, looked onwards at a now empty room. His own tears soon returned as he tried to shut his eyes to prevent them.

He didn't down himself for somewhat causing this, though. He really cared about this other person and wanted them to remain safe. It was really a shame that they didn't pick up on what he was trying to say before. He was smart enough to understand that it was just a simple bed in front of him.

He was much better healed now. His past motion of trying to hinder this, while bringing forth a little blood, hadn't actually done anything in impacting his actual strength. He felt much stronger now than even before, the shock and pain having lessened and motions being less difficult. Three hadn't even made it bleed from his hard pressing to force him into Octo-form.

The problem was that something within him. Every so often he'd get the hunger for something horrible. It was like a need that was desperately wanting to be fulfilled.

He didn't follow those orders, of course - but his thoughts forever lingered on that one occasion he'd felt truly out of control from his own body. Nothing really happened back then, he'd simply locked his view to the other. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't break away from it.

That clear thought, too. It frightened him more than anything else. What was the reason for it? Was it a trick?

Or was it... not?

He really trusted this other person, but were they actually the one tricking him? Acting nice to postpone him from following through with this impulse? They'd shown a strange attitude then, was that the true them?

Agent 8 hoped not. He certainly hoped he wasn't of some importance and was merely being tricked to be used by the other for some later gain, as he'd thought once previously.

But whatever was going on - something within him really, really wanted him to hurt his newfound friend. Fighting as hard as possible for dominant control of his body and mind. And right now, he didn't want to put himself in an optimal position for it to take over and do just that.

Even if it did mean refusing a restful cuddle with the person he liked the most.

\- - - - -

"Talk."

Agent 3 nearly superjumped out his skin when he heard a voice directly behind him. It was just before 6AM and Three had gotten out of his sofa-bed, his inability to sleep having only irritated him more and more. It was light enough to be able to make out objects in a room but not enough to focus on things comfortably. If anything, his headache had at least passed, but he still felt dreary and unfocused overall.

He stood in his kitchen now, a glass of orange juice in his hand (if only this fake world had functional silent kettles!) which had shot up to his ceiling after picking up the word of 'talk'. Recognising the voice though, he managed to catch the glass on its way down. Not so much the contents though.

"Jesus, Eight." Setting the glass on a countertop and briefly brushing his juice-stained pyjama top with his sleeve, Three faced his friend, only to find a pair of dark curves under his eyes. It didn't look like he had gotten much luck with sleep either.

Now having pulled himself together, Three continued. Caught on the spot, he opted to go for a friendly, 'chilled' behaviour. Trying to fool Eight that last night didn't actually happen. ...Yeah right.

"Are you alright, Eight? It's pretty early right now, as I'm sure you're aware. I don't plan on going out anytime soon, though, so if you wan-"

"Talk, Three." Eight interrupted, stepping forward to be much closer. It was a different tone of voice than usual, slightly louder with firm pronunciation. Three studied his face to find a matching expression, one of determination and focus. This certainly was different. But it didn't look threatening.

Taking a step back to collect himself once more, no additional words arose as Eight instantly closed the gap again. This was a surprise to Three. Eight wasn't acting stern or strict but was clearly dead set on whatever he wanted to do. It was almost intimidating to Three - on the rare occasions Eight would act this way back home the entire room would go silent with everyone showing him respect. He only pulled this attitude on things he found important. ...Including Three himself, once, after Marie had made one of her many harmless jokes towards him that Eight happened to take literally.

Like himself, it's not often you see Marie caught off guard. Or scolded!

The point was, Three never knew how to handle him when he was like this. Or what he would do next. He was unreadable.

"Ah- yeah, okay." Three responded, not bothering to play it dumb to stall for time. With a small gulp, he got on with it.

"Obviously this is about yesterday. So whatever it is, I'm ready for you to say it. I know I fucked up heavy so don't bother holding back. Hit me hard. Let's go, let's hear it, Eighty boy." Agent 3 didn't know what he was even saying anymore. That was a strange way to psych yourself up for verbal impact.

Eight looked around the room for a moment until he found what he was after, then grabbed onto Three's arm and took him over closer to the window, where it was easier to see one another.

Letting go, Eight wasted no time and lifted his top up, pointing to his semi-healed wound with his dominant hand. All the while his gaze still fell upon Three.

"Oh, is that hurting really bad or s-"

Agent 3, with the 'toughness' aura associated with him to most strangers back home, couldn't remember a time someone had dared to physically hold his mouth shut with their hand - much less actually go through with it.

"No, Three. No, no. N o." Eight spoke, the firmness still in his voice.

Three fell silent. He started making a greater effort to focus on what it was Eight wanted now. Like he'd expected, this seemed important to him.

Releasing his hold, Eight dropped his determined exterior for a moment to check he didn't offend his friend.

It almost made Three want to cry, seeing him care for him like this after the vocal lashing he'd dished out so recently. Agent 8 was so well-natured it was almost criminal.

"...Okay, Three?"

"Yeah, Eight. I'm okay."

Pleased with the response, Eight repeated his motion.

" **Repeat**." He followed with, a word Three often used in his language training.

"So... your injury, right?"

Eight nodded with a small smile, the first Three had seen in a long time, then spoke again.

" **Repeat**."

This confused Three.

"Injury?"

" **Repeat**."

"Injury...?"

" **Repeat**."

That didn't seem to be the answer Eight was after.

"Sorry, Eight, I'm not understanding what you mean."

Agent 8 dropped his top down and scowled a little, this visible annoyance continue to blow Three away. He never usually let that show through. Agent 3 was in his shoes, now; unable to understand what the other was wanting from him. He'd never once considered what this must be like for Eight all the time. That had been a mistake.

Feeling sudden pressure on both sides of his body, Three let out a gasp in shock. He hadn't even realised Eight had came right up to him just then. Looking down then back up, he felt a twinge of pain as Eight increases the pressure for a fraction of a second, before letting go entirely. Three understood this as very clear mimicking of what he'd done to Eight before to force trigger his octopus form. He'd pressed so strong, too, it was surprising. But how on Earth could Three define that into words?

Looking back to Eight, once again he pointed to his front, then side to side on Three's body that he'd just held.

Outside of Three being reminded of the discomfort he'd forced on his friend before, it still clicked within him.

"Pain. That feeling is pain."

Agent 8 ran the word over in his head a few times before attempting it.

"Payy-"

He stopped early at the feeling of Three blowing warm air onto him.

" **Define**." Three said to him, suddenly taking charge of the conversation. Eight felt lost suddenly, that word's meaning having escaped him. He didn't say anything back.

"Hot, yeah?" Three filled in, slightly concerned at Eight's failure. He hoped that wasn't the case for most things he'd taught. Three made a mental note to get Eight to speak to him more often instead of having conversations be so one sided - including the normal times when they weren't feeling awkward around each other. Refusing to speak couldn't be good for learning and retaining language.

He stopped that tangent in its tracks though as a second thing clicked in his brain. With Eight having nodded thoroughly, showing that he remembered the definition overall, Three tried a different approach.

Blowing cold air onto him this time, he 'asked':

" **Repeat**."

"Cold?"

Bingo.

"You've got those mixed up, Eight. Listen now. **Repeat** \- cold, cold, cold. **Define** -"

Three blew on him again.

"Hot... yes. Ohh - yes! Okay! **Repeat** , no - **Define** , yes."

Three smiled. It was nice to hear Eight genuinely happy again for a moment.

"Hehe, don't wor-"

"Sorry."

Agent 3 pulled a face that halted midway through, forming an unreadable expression. He couldn't believe Eight had learnt that from yesterday, let alone used it correctly, but he didn't want to complain about it. He'd vocalised it perfectly as well. Did he practice that word overnight...?

"...Heh. You're welcome, Eight. It's okay."

"Okay, Three. Us okay."

"Yeah."

The two of them stood smiling at each other for a few seconds. It was a huge relief to the older Agent. Eight forgave him. Three was debating about offering a hug, but before he decided Eight pressed on with his mission.

"Payyn, pain. Pain."

"Yep, pain. When stuff hurts."

"... _ **Define**_."

Three gave him a funny look, but Eight remained serious. It looked like definitely wanted to get this definition correct.

"Um... You sure?"

" **Define**."

With a bit of hesitation, Three reluctantly obliged. Using the same example he'd previously given the other, Eight slowly raised his top, sending encouraging signals to him as he proceeded to hold it steady for him. Taking a breath, Three lightly placed the palm of his hand on the centre of Eight's bandaged wound, then overlapped his other palm atop. Looking up at Eight, still seeing the calm face and getting nonexistent resistance, he applied moderate pressure to push a little inwards, and upon seeing Eight's face begin to scrunch up removed his hands entirely, taking his top from him and letting it down once more.

He went ahead and spoke to alleviate the awkwardness of what he'd just done.

"That was pain. That feeling. Like cold and hot? All feelings. Pain is another feeling."

Eight nodded, appearing to be completely fine with what just took place.

"Pain feehlin. Okay."

"So - your injury is painful?" Three asked a second time, now that the act of defining was cleared away.

"No."

"Oh. Okay, speak to me more. I'll try to help."

Eight rubbed a cheek with his hand, struggling to find a starting point for what he wanted to say. It didn't help that he never planned this out earlier. Nor that what he wanted to say would be hard to someone fluent to even properly describe.

"Three... pain, Eight." He said, much to Three's dismay. Eight was looking for the joining word but Three had yet to realise this.

"I... yeah, I did do that to you... uhh, sor-"

"Three... help, Eight." He continued, pointing at himself once more.

"...Yes. I did wrap that for you."

"Eight..." Agent 8 took hold of Three's hand, gently pulling him forward.

"...Here, Three."

That wasn't a proper sentence, but in how Three had taught him the definition of 'here' as 'move to there', it made enough sense for him.

"Yes."

Eight was hoping Three would say a lot more than simply 'yes'. He kept going with more examples.

"Three speak. Eight speak. Us speak. Us sleep. Mmmh... Us-"

"Doing. Got it. Me, you, we - are doing something."

Eight was slightly confused by Three there, on the same word he'd heard him use before. Three always motioned his words out which he was grateful for, but he was going to really need to ask the different between 'us' and 'we' in the future. He brushed it off though as he'd gotten what he needed.

"Deww-in."

"Doing. I wrapped you, we are speaking, you lead me, we went to sleep - these are all doing things."

Using different tenses for words was leading to confusion within Eight, and it sure was showing on his face.

"Okay - simpler. Let's do this for now."

Taking hold of Eight's hand akin to how he did to himself, Three designed a broken Inkling template that they both could at least understand together.

"Three, is doing, hand holding with Eight."

A blush almost formed when he realised what he'd just defined, but Three stayed cool as he saw Agent 8 nod. What are some more examples he could use...

Stretching his other hand;

"Three, is doing, pointing."

Squeezing Eight's hand;

"Three, is doing, squeezing."

Eight nodded again, the term made clear to him. Having liked the feeling of the last example Three had proved he did it back to him, before asking a question with his newfound knowledge.

"Three, doing, happy?"

Three just smiled and nodded in response. Of all the ways to use that word Eight had possibly picked a sentence that sounded worse with it included, but he didn't correct it. The important thing right now was understanding each other consistently, and future sentences spoken like that would be easy to comprehend.

While things had turned out well in learning that term, Eight's happiness had faded as he thought over the reason he was here right now. He was going to tell Three what he needed to make known now.

Using his other arm, he pulled Three's hand away from his gripped one and looked at him directly.

"Three?"

Three took notice of the change in style.

"What's up, Eight?"

Looking away, Agent 8 bit the inside of his lip as he thought over the best way to say this.

"No happy feehling... here." He stated, pressing his palm against his chest. Three looked on with concern. Was Eight having a serious problem internally? Had... had him pressing hard on his body by the manhole damaged an organ? But before he could ask for further clarification, Eight spoke further by himself.

"Feeling talk... Eight, doing... pain..."

Pointing to him;

"Three. No... no happy."

If Eight had said that to any other person they might not have been able to understand. Any other person who did happen to do so had even less of a chance of believing him. And at the very lowest odds would be someone who could directly relate to that feeling from past experience. To Three's knowledge only one person existed that could check off all those boxes.

And it just so happened that him, being said person who once had that feeling, had gone through the very same impulse build as the Octoling... which, furthermore:

Was to hurt the EXACT person in front of him right now.

\- - - - -

It's funny how coincidences can line up so smoothly.

It had only been minutes ago where the two agents had gone through their unscheduled early morning talk. Neither of them could see any difference in the light with how little time has passed since.

And yet now, with the two back in Agent 3's bedroom, the situation had completely flipped. After a wake up call (no pun intended) on how lacking Eight's Inkling skills really were, he'd decided on sitting him down to run through the basics for at least an hour. And this time actually writing taught words out instead of simply constantly improvising.

But once he'd had his back turned to his friend, opening multiple draws to wade through the mess to find a pen and notepad, the moment he looked back had destroyed his objective on the spot.

Eight was doing that funny eye thing again, showing extreme focus onto Three. Or so he'd thought. Studying Eight's gaze revealed that he wasn't actually looking at him this time. Opting to not trace his line of sight as that would require him to turn his back a second time, Three kept his stance towards him and instead ran his mind on what would be so interesting over there. Eight was only looking a few centimetres to his ri-

Oh.

Eight was staring at his Splattershot.

Three halted all external movement upon this realisation, suddenly wracked with pure, genuine fear. It was the similar to what he'd felt when first rescuing Agent 8, but this time... towards his own survival. He was afraid to say anything, move anywhere, approach Eight or honestly do anything at all. If he got splatted here, in Inkaline, without any respawn pads or perhaps the UFO thing nearby... well...

He knew Eight himself didn't want to do anything more than anyone else would know. Three had been trying everything to stop fighting him back in Kamabo but nothing had even made a dent into disrupting his controlled body's effectiveness. His knowledge of this information made this even worse.

Still having done nothing at all, and Eight having done nothing more either, Three contemplated again on saying something. But isn't that what you're expected to do; what anyone else would do when confused by this? Wouldn't it be designed that way to be most effective?

Three was the only person with raw experience on this. And by doing nothing at all, it was the most alien response he could give.

...Well, he pretended that was the reason this appeared to be working. The reality was he didn't dare do anything else and until this failed he was sticking with it. Eight's issue here might not even be related to that goop stuff at all, but the power of it overriding him entirely stuck Three as similar.

He had no idea if this would work in the future, but seeing Eight regain control, blinking away chaotically and diverting his pupils to literally anything but the weapon, it had worked for now. Eight stepped back a little and started relaying his thoughts as best he could.

"Thrr, Three, Three - Eight feeling... Agggh, Three - No no-"

Three smiled at him. Eight had been clever to have forced him to listen to him in the kitchen. If he was any other person it'd be immensely helpful for what was happening here.

"It's okay, Eight."

Putting his back to the other now that he was back in control, Three continued his search and retrieved the items he was after. He purposefully did this quickly to not show negative attention towards what was residing inside Eight. Turning back around, he saw him holding a shaky arm out, pointing directly to where he'd previously been looking and shaking his head intently.

Agent 3 set his note taking setup on his bed and obliged.

"Got it."

Grabbing his loaned weapon that still even all this time wasn't truly his, Three left the room for about a minute, returning without it. Looking to Eight he saw nodding of approval. That'd be hard for him to find.

Getting back on track to his planned teaching, Three moved to sit on the edge of his bed, retrieving his items while Eight continued maintaining distance. Sitting down, he patted to his left, motioning Eight to sit with him. Agent 8 protested.

"Three-"

"Here, Eight." Three requested, repeating his patting motion.

"Sit here with Three. It's okay, Eight. I trust you."

Tentatively, Eight did as he was asked, slowly walking over to Three and taking a seat next to him.

"Good boy."

Three clasped his mouth shut with his dominant right hand in a snap, accidentally getting pen ink on his left cheek due to him having still been holding it. But he didn't care. What did he just say? WHAT? Did he really just say those two words?

This was followed by him rapidly realising two things - Agent 8 had no idea what he said anyway and that would have looked extremely strange to him - so he dropped his hand back down wordlessly.

If anything, that'd worked wonders in taking Eight's mind off their previous event.

"A-Alright, E-Eight, uhhmm... Let's- Let's start with words you already know, yeah?"

\- - - - -

"You... Three. Agent 3. Name full. No! Full name, mistake. Eight mistake. No - my mistake. ...Yes?"

Having moved from old words to new words to sentence structure, Eight was doing his best to embed these rules deeply into his head. Now nearing the end of their Inkling session, which had lasted well over time due to a concoction of enjoyment and progress, Three had gotten the idea of letting Eight construct his own free floating sentences. Better to correct these now instead of constantly in the future while they're busy with something else, right?

As for his very first attempt that had just taken place, Three responded:

"That's really great, Eight! You've done such a great job in learning this so fast. You corrected everything perfectly as well! Well done!"

Agent 8 smiled and looked away shyly, not having expected to receive such pronounced positive praise.

"Thhh-anks, Three."

"Wanna try saying another?"

"You say to me."

"Alright, sure thing."

Pausing for a moment until Eight regained full concentration on him, Three went ahead, wondering if Eight would manage to find what he was about to say cheesy. If he wanted to say something like this, it'd be better early before Eight could actually understand everything.

"Agent 8 is my best friend. I really like him a lot. He's smart, kind, and I even find his funny tentacle kind of cute."

Shaking his head lightly with his eyes closed at what he'd just said, Eight processed his sentence internally and picked a part to learn from.

"Qewt? What is? Three **Define** qewt to Eight?"

That marked another point for Agent 3's 'should-have-seen-that-coming' score, but he at least managed to flatten his flustering before it showed.

"Oh um, it's just like... good."

"Okay. **Repeat**?"

"Cute."

"Cute."

Well, that one wasn't very tough.

"That's it!"

Pleased with himself, Agent 8 reminded himself that it was his turn to say something. He wondered how many more he could do, as Three had been looking to leave for somewhere around this time. And who knows when they could have this opportunity again? It'd be best to make these count.

Mashing a few carefully selected words together to make sense, Eight began his second response.

"Okay! Agent **Th**  
\- - **RRR**  
**EEE**  
**EEE** _cuhhwte,, , Eaigih#h#t g%# &% ##a%#&&#%# # # &% &"_  
_E_  
_Oh, THat was strAnge. Agent 8's voiCe was very rapIdly distortiNg._  
_E_  
_WeirD. Multple impos5Ible Memorie weRe floding Agent 3's heAd._  
_E_  
_7his s géttng unnatura.1 Hów M4ny time$ hs th!s -ind of thíng hapP3Ned n0W /?_  
_E_  
_e_  
_E cuhhwte,, , Eaigih#h#t g%# &% ##a%#&&#%# # # &% &"_  
_e_  
_e_  
_E_  
_(3-pov)(q)WoAH, whaht tHe fúkc. . .?(-q)_  
_e_  
_e_  
_e_  
_E_  
_-..FeEling aa-h wa 4sh oF disss -0rshnn, Ayge n-T 3Ee su Dd e n n_  
_e_

_e_

* * *

A communication error has occurred.

* * *


	11. But I will carry on

"H-G-O,N.A-Y-S-T?"

Chapter 12:  
But Eight didn't mind. If anything, the long journey would serve more than just finding out what was over here, as he'd be able to talk to Agent 3 the entire way there. He'd learnt to love the reaction the other gave him when he improved his speaking, not even just for the praise he received. Actually, come to think about it, pleasing Three was the only thing he consistently made an effort to do...

"Ye,IThThIsEn."

Chapter 14:  
Three doubled back with speed to the elevated respawn pad, calling out for his friend who remained atop it. It had worked! Craning his head upwards with a hand to block the sun, he managed to make out just enough of Eight to realise it'd done far more than just work - as the colour of his tentacles now matched the squid's own dark blue...

"Ok, Le Pu Hi Ou No."

Chapter 15:  
He couldn't believe he hadn't realized this sooner. The question was: why, though? Was this always meant to work like this? The amount of opportunities this opened up was insane. He could travel anywhere in his mind now with Eight. Anywhere he thought of would cause the manhole to link to there...

"You gra him tig, Mar?"

Chapter 18:  
With a low purring sound in response, he continued. It was funny to think about, really. Agent 8 probably had no idea how Three had known this would be so effective on him, but that couldn't be more opposite for the older Agent. This was one of the first things they'd done to one another back in the real world, examine the different sucker positions on each other, and Three'd soon worked out how sensitive Eight's were; as well as how much he enjoyed them being gently caressed in just this way...

"Of cour, Call. Focu on what you' doin firs."

Chapter 20:  
The fear Eight witnessed having rapidly formed on his friend's face didn't make him feel good originally. He never wanted him feeling negative emotions. After some thought, though, he changed his mind on it. Witnessing that, forming out of the possibility of being separated for just a couple minutes from one another, had let him know just how much he really cared for him...

"Alrig, alrig. On the count of three, right?"

Chapter 24:  
Neither of them dared to venture back out until the heat was gone, but that didn't damper Agent 3's mood. Eight was free, now. It had taken him so long, but he'd done it. No longer would he feel that viscous urge within himself - ever. In the warmth of Three's embrace, knowledge finally setting in to him, Agent 8 didn't think it was possible to be happier...

"Yeah, ready?"

"Yep!"

"Okay. One, two..."

" **T** "  
" **H** "

" **R** " - -

" **E** "  
" **E** "

Agent 3 felt a wash of... everything. There was an unrecognizable electrical connection feeling in his head that sparked and faded, and before him he saw large spots of colours mixing into one another.

What was...?

In the distance, he heard giggling. It sounded recognizable.

Callie, wasn't it?

"Ahaha, Agent 3! You should see your face right now!"

Yeah.

Looking around wildly, Three's hearts quickened as the blurry figures in his vision started to sharpen up.

"Hush, Callie. Three - are you alright?"

That was Marie's voice. Both of them were with him? Where was he?

Shaking his head rapidly, Three tried his hardest to focus on ANYTHING surrounding him.

"Aha, I'm sorry I'm sorry! His big eyes just look so... funny!"

What's going on? Was this another dream?

"Stay still, Three. Can you tell us what happened?"

???

Can HE tell THEM what just happened? WHAT?

There were too many questions to ask, each one just as suitable as the next in importance. Except one, on a similar topic to usual, which easily managed to pierce through them all. Where was-

"Eight." He spoke out. "Where's... Where's Agent 8?"

Eyesight clearing up further, Agent 3 could now visually confirm it was indeed Marie in front of him. He could have sworn she was shocked at what he'd said - as well as hearing a faint 'did he just say his name?' across the room from the other Squid Sister.

"What just happened, Three?" She repeated a second time. Three on the other hand felt no desire to answer that at all, shooting back questions of his own instead. He didn't know the answer anyway.

"Where am I, Marie? Where's Eight? Is he safe?" Her expression wasn't a pleased one upon hearing his reply.

"Just tell us what happened, Three. What did you see?"

"What the fuck do you mean, 'what did I see'? What the hell are you talking about?! Where's Agent 8?"

He'd snapped that out harshly, but that was the least of his concern.

"Hey, Agent 3! That's not a nice way to speak to Marie."

Oh for...

"...What the fuck do you mean, not a nice way to speak? Is that really what's important right now? _Where the hell am I?_ Are you gonna tell me instead?"

A shocked and displeased expression covered Callie's face. Marie, however, stayed completely cool and collected.

"Ignore her, Three. Focus on me. Tell me what happened."

Not seeing another option, the veteran Agent took a moment then complied. Somewhat.

"Look, I... I don't know, alright? I - I have no idea what you mean, Marie. I don't. Just tell me where Agent 8 is, please. He's safe, isn't he?"

Marie's face shifted somewhat, turning more thoughtful then back to her pre-existing one.

"Why do you want to know?"

Three didn't know what he was feeling once those six words hit his ears.

"...What? WHAT? Wh- WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHY DO I WANT TO KNOW? Why are you asking me such stupid questions?! WHY WOULDN'T I WANT TO KNOW? ARE YOU-"

Marie seemed visibly taken aback by such an aggressive response, retreating backwards slightly.

But that wasn't what stopped Three from finishing his outburst - as a loud bang from a door slamming open to his left had temporarily frightened him. Looking over, he recognized the face... Marina, wasn't it?

"Guys! Cut it short, please! We can't keep Eight still - go to Plan B now!"

Plan B? What was that? What was plan A, even?

Wait... Eight?

Feeling a strong pull, Agent 3 soon felt himself being tugged hard towards a different door in this... what even was this? It looked like framing for a helicopter, the spitting image of the one he'd flown before he'd been dropped into that dome, but he was definitely grounded right now.

Oh - what's he doing analysing his surroundings? He's getting taken away from Eight!

Kicking out and heavily resisting, Three soon realised he wasn't his usual self in terms of strength. Figured. These two wouldn't dare touch him normally.

"He- HEY! Where are you guys taking me? Wha- Marie, Callie?! STOP. PUT ME DOWN."

"Quit fighting us, Agent 3! You're just about to go live!"

Those words from Callie certainly didn't help matters. Just _what was going on?_ Why didn't anybody ever just TELL him?

"Live? Get off me! I want to see Eight. And I want to see him now. LISTEN, POPSTARS: I DON'T CARE ABOUT WHATEVER THIS SHIT IS. GET OFF ME."

"Shhh, Three. You're gonna blow it! Marie-"

The two girls stopped dragging him forward with a silent facial exchange between each other. Leaning down, Marie quickly began an explanation, whispering close to Three's ear as if she shouldn't be doing so.

"Three. We just had you on Grizz's modded hypnoshades for 30 seconds. I'm not sure what you saw; you shouldn't know Agent 8's name."

Woahwoahwoah hold up. That was already well enough to be too great for Three's comprehension. He looked at her, mouth agape. Though he didn't say anything.

Is she out of her mind? He couldn't possibly believe that.

Callie looked concerned now, rushing a hand signal motion for Marie to move forward again. But her lighter-haired cousin spent a few extra seconds talking.

"You're about to be recorded. The trial with you and Eight, Three, remember? It's starting now."

Three's expression had yet to change. What? Wasn't he knee-deep in it already? Looking ahead above the door, he saw a black looking camcorder pointing downwards on the other side of the arch above it - with the exact same tape around it as was on his snow-wear before.

Marie whispered one final thing even quieter, before getting back to what she was doing before.

"We're trusting you, Three. Just - Don't. Say. His name out loud."

\- - - - -

It was the concrete bunker.

Three'd recognized this layout instantly. It was the same thing he'd originally talked to Eight in, and the stone version of what he'd taken him back to once the trial had first started.

Which... HAD started back then, hadn't it...? Marie had told him this was the trial instead.

No way. No no, no way. He'd done so much in that fake world. In the first snow dome temporarily, in the fake 'Inkaline' city clone, and in the multiple other domes he'd travelled through the manhole to each day.

With Eight. He'd done it all with Agent 8.

Every day, he'd awaken in his old bed with the other Agent beside him. After which he'd make them both breakfast and take Eight somewhere from his memory through the square's manhole, searching for findings to get themselves out of there.

Then they'd return to Inkaline together - to do whatever Eight wanted. It was Three's orders in the morning and Eight's in the evening. He'd teach him more Inkling, show him how the collected objects worked from their travels, go wherever he wanted to go, or even just sit around cuddling all night.

And when they were done, they'd arrive back at his home, have something else to eat and fall asleep side-by-side.

He did all of that with Eight. For multiple weeks. Months, even. On a few of those days, he'd wished they could just stay there together... forever. But then would remember what he was working towards. Who he was, who he was helping by going through this. It was motivation he'd been pushing onwards with for what felt like a thousand hours.

And now he's meant to believe none of that actually ever happened? That wasn't possible. He'd been there for **weeks**!

The lights were all turned off in here with the singular window blacked out completely. As soon as the Squid Sisters had shoved him inside and closed the door, the light emitting out from it had soon faded to nothing. Three had felt his way to the other side of the room, now standing exactly where that one camera was pointing to. Waiting.

He couldn't hear anything in here, or anything from outside this place. As he was getting taken here he could hear faint voices through the door Marina had burst through, namely of herself and Pearl panicking. Obviously whatever was going on was not going to plan. Which would make sense. Marina had called this 'Plan B', after all.

So what was the problem Eight had ran into? What were they even doing to him?

Was it those 'hypnoshades', as well? So he'd gone through the same as Three?

... _Really?_ That was really it, then? THIS was truly the real world, and everything else was all... for nothing?

None of it had ever happened? Him helping Eight through all that, finally crushing that toxic feeling within him just yesterday and seeing him so, _so_ overjoyed didn't... even matter?

Agent 8 had done something here. He must have done something to cause this. What had Marina said? Can't keep him still?

Agent 3 had wore them for 30 seconds, correct? Marie had said that. How long did Eight wear them? And what did he see instead?

Three just wanted to know he was okay.

\- - - - -

Agent 3 didn't know how much time had passed while he was in the dark building, but hearing the sound of talking quickly regained his attention to actually existing. It'd been silent the whole time.

He heard lots of voices; none of which could be recognized due to the heavy muffle effect the heavy walls of the structure were producing. This place had seemed the least threatening thing in light, further less so in the wooden version that never actually existed, but in dark the strange qualities of it now took on a much more sinister feel. Why did Cuttlefish even have this built? Three'd still yet to learn its actual purpose for construction.

Suddenly, the voices stopped. And a minute later, the entire room lit up.

And Agent 8 wasn't in here with him.

Breathing quickening, Three debated on what he should be doing. If he was truly 'live' now he'd better not mess this up.

Before he'd even considered his first option though, the door ahead of him slowly began opening.

There were multiple things he saw as the gap opposite the hinge increased in size. First, on the right, was where he'd originally been sitting by Marie. Second was a pair of two figures in a window dead ahead through the door, an Inkling Girl and some kind of tall figure. And with the door fully opened, on the left, it was-

...!

Agent 3 stopped himself from saying his name. But he couldn't stop his body.

Upon making eye contact back, Agent 8 couldn't stop his, either.

Clashing in the very centre of the room, the two begun babbling out all sorts to one another as they held on tight, crying and shaking into each other's arms.

\- - - - -

"Yeah, that'll do. Jot that down, kid."

Agent 4 looked up at the tall man in shock. It'd only been one second! Was he really satisfied already?

The man in question had already turned away from the action, tall black trench coat concealing most of his identity. He spoke in a tone that Agent 3 would've recognized immediately if the window was opened - and, to the unknowing Agent 4 - was currently enjoying not having to mask his voice to talk to her.

"Oh...? Umm, mister, are you sure you don't want to wait a little longer?"

"What for? Look at 'em, they're all over each other."

"Oh. Well, yeah, I guess so. ...Okay. What should I write down?"

"Just put what you're seein'. Huggin' and kissin' n' that. That'll get the message across."

Well, she couldn't put it like THAT...

"...Right. Umm, okay. Just so I'm clear - you got the rundown of what happened, didn't you? Their virtual experiences without memories? The hyper-hypnoshades?"

"Mmm. Bad news, those shades. I don't doubt their strength." _I modded them, after all. And I most certainly did not name them that._

Having no problems accepting the answer, Agent 4 moved her hand away from the page and tapped her pen rhythmically, trying to think of a way to word what was taking place between the two male Agents. Whoever this head-honcho figure was, he sure was an easy person to please.

"Yer summary up here's lookin' a bit outta line, kid."

Maybe not. Inner worry started flaring up. Four didn't see a problem herself, and Marie was counting on her to do this right!

"Oh... you think so?"

"Yeah. Swap those numbers. Number Three's meant to be the tough'in, ain't he?"

"It's Agent 3, sir. But you would be correct, yes."

"Why ain't he the obvious one?"

Written before the trial directly taking place ahead of them had been doing so, Agent 4 had summarized what was going to happen at the top of her notebook. She'd written that for 'all the members over at S.B, the candidate choice of Agent 8 was a really obvious one to make'. What was so bad about that?

"Well, all of us in the team know Agent 8 already. We know what he's like, how he acts. I haven't ever seen him be nasty to anyone."

"...Heh."

The tall man turned, facing back at the young Agent. Though she couldn't make out his face properly.

"Answer me, kid - are most of you Inkling's nasty bugger's?"

That wasn't a threat, was it...?

"...Umm... no. Not from my experience, sir."

He motioned to the window with a kind of nod. Four had yet to see him move either one of his arms.

"What about them funny lookin' Octo's? They a bunch'a crooks?"

"I haven't met that many yet... but for the ones I have, not rea-"

"Nah. They ain't."

Agent 4 quietened, the stern tone and slight interruption she'd heard turning her to start listening.

"Yer the same, all of ya. You're all capable. All kind natured. ...If not a little flippant." He spoke, the additional dialogue of 'Especially in proper jobs.' having been stripped from his final sentence. Continuing:

"Any old Octo would do, really. But him?"

He motioned a second time, watching Agent 3 who was now closer to the door. Closer to the ground, still hugging his best friend tightly. The man recognized him well.

"He's somethin'. Splatted thousands of 'em, hasn't he? For years from an age even lesser than your own? Strong performin' fella too, I've heard." _And seen._

Agent 4 looked back at him from the window and nodded.

"He's yer best choice. Because, young'un, if HE can like 'em..."

The man crouched slightly, talking quieter to the female Inkling.

" **...Any squid can.** Now get writin', kid. The fancy papers are waitin' and ain't gonna write themselves."

\- - - - -

Mr. Grizz nodded approvingly as he watched the live feed of Inkopolis square from the relaxing seat of his curved couch. Numerous Octolings arrived one at a time, nervousness evident on each of their faces before turning to little smiles as the surrounding Inklings welcomed them.

He chuckled to himself. Really, what an intelligent man he was. After flying over to meet up with Craig, he'd been fascinated by those so-called 'Hypnoshades' he'd shown to him. A mind controlling device masked as... 'cool' headwear. Fashion couldn't be further irrelevant to Grizz's interests in contrast to the technology within them which he found exceptionally intriguing.

It hadn't taken him long at all to convert them into what he'd aptly dubbed as 'Nightmare Inducers'. Shades that would, over a set period of time, incur the wearer's worst fears at a steady set interval. All within their mind.

Of course, it wouldn't harm them in reality, but even still he was surprised at his own results. The few tests he'd ran on them showed that only seconds were required to get the desired effect. The brain is such a quick processor it becomes the wearer's own worst enemy in handling their effects, speeding up more and more as their imagination dropped further into fear. He'd worn them himself for a few seconds, once. And what he saw still pushes him onwards to this day in culling back those damn Salmonids.

He'd picked the first two applicable people Cuttlefish had shown forth to him right away, not caring who they were after telling the old squid his plan. The pair had spoken while seated in Craig's odd looking concrete room. His meeting room, supposedly. An interesting individual, that old geezer.

Grizz was dead set on using the shades and his determination to use them had really paid off. All he'd got Squidbeak to do was rile the two participants up for a week, then sat them down to wear the shades for what, 30 seconds? Then they'd fell into each other's arms immediately. Job done.

Seriously, that was it. A week for perfect results. It was no wonder why everyone voted for him to be in control. (...Though his claim of increasing his special rotations may have played a part in that.)

And although knowing the answer would serve nothing in progressing him forward, Grizz did consider what exactly the two had seen. They were simple creatures, weren't they? They probably cried over no longer being able to hear their booming pop music 24/7, then because friends over that common interest. Yeah, something like that. Hehe.

It was the end of it now. Inklings and Octolings would live fine together, something he already knew but had now also successfully proven. And there was no harm done to anyone! He'd even managed to get a small girl to write out all these official documents for him, resulting in extra credit for the new recruit assigned by that snarky Squid Sister. Neat handwriting there. The few paragraphs she'd written would've taken him hours.

Grizz had already lost interest to his television screen now. This wasn't a productive use of his time. Turning attention over to his microphone and lever, he took a final look back to check the outside of his building, just about visible at the upper left. There'd better not be any funny business going on with these new kids.

He was satisfied to see no such act. In fact, these new kids looked to be the hard-working type. Perfect candidates to boost that egg income percentage.

Tuning his television to stream the powerful signal from his boat, he prepared to pull the lever and welcome all for his highly anticipated own special modded-weapon shift. A celebratory act, he'd advertised as, but the hidden purpose was to learn if these new kids on the block were the goodie-goodie type that'd rat him out instantly.

All set to open up shop. But there was one name on his temporary banlist here...

HOTHEAD, with the picture attached. Yeah, that was him. He'd been a bit hard on that squid perhaps. No wonder his performance was lacking before.

...But those eggs he'd cost him. Grrr...

Yeah. He can sit the rest of his week out. Being the good employer Mr. Grizz was, he wouldn't want to get in the way of HOTTIE's upcoming relationship status announcement. Maybe he'd make history being the first cross-species couple. Grizz couldn't care less about any of that mushy stuff.

But he cared about good employees. Even if he pretended to be tough. And, honestly speaking...

...That guy was probably his best. He ought to think about givin' him a raise.


End file.
